


As Time Goes By

by SpaceCaseWriter13



Series: Find Your Way Home [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (unfortunate canon compliance), Angst, Angst with a satisfying ending, Canon Death, Depression, Gen, Previous trauma mentioned, Suicidal Ideation, Swearing, canon compliance, hurt comfort, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 137,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26011492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceCaseWriter13/pseuds/SpaceCaseWriter13
Summary: It has been fifty-eight days since the end of the world. Still at the compound Magdalene “Maggie” Ramirez is trying to figure out her next move.  With Sam and Bucky and half the world population gone, Steve, Natasha, and Maggie flounder as they try to pick up the pieces and make a life out of what remains. Will Maggie and the others find their way home? How will her world be flipped upside down again when a chance and a prayer come to fruition? Find out all this and more in the final installment of “Find Your Way Home.”
Relationships: James “Bucky” Barnes/OC
Series: Find Your Way Home [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1271882
Comments: 63
Kudos: 5





	1. Would You Like to Begin Again?

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> Recommended Listening: Wasted Time by the Eagles; Let it Be by John Denver; Three Little Birds by Bob Marley
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=XCQrEkQATGymYI_0QqJw5A

Maggie Ramirez was alive. She was acutely aware of this fact as she focused her mind around breathing, forcing the air in and out of her lungs. The air would, of course, enrich her blood with oxygen, and would be pumped around her body as her heart raced. She was alive, she could feel the pound of her pulse and the rhythm of her stride as her feet hit the gravel path which crunched under her. There was a slight breeze which kissed her skin and provided a cooling action as she ran, trying to block the world out, trying to keep her mind empty, focused on the task in front of her, one foot in front of the other. One step at a time.

She had thus far survived Fifty-eight days since the end of the world. Fifty-eight days since an alien called Thanos had used infinity stones to wipe out half of all life in the universe. Fifty-eight days since she’d left Wakanda. Fifty-eight days since she’d arrived back in New York at the Avenger’s Compound. Fifty-eight days that she’d had to remind herself just to breathe.

Breathe in, and breathe out.

Everything else after that came easy: eating, sleeping, moving, that all fell into place, but only after she remembered to breathe.

The first twenty-one days after the end of the world she’d spent with her ear glued to the radio, her eyes glued to reports coming out of the Avengers briefs, and her mind trying to wrap itself around the rapidly growing causality list as it ticked skyward with no sign of stopping.

She hadn’t slept much in those first three weeks, and when she had managed a wink or two, she’d had all sorts of strange and horrible dreams. Her brain unable to disconnect from the horror happening around her, despite her total exhaustion. Even while she’d been awake, the world felt like a strange waking dream, a liminal space between living and dying.

Then there had been a moment where they’d thought everything might be okay. It had been a spark, a glimmer, a moment of hope that had been crushed with complete and total finality. The Infinity Stones were gone, they couldn’t undo what Thanos had done.

This was permanent.

Maggie had sobbed for what felt like a week solid until she couldn’t anymore, and then she’d gotten to work.

For the first few days, work had consisted of getting out bed, brushing her teeth, combing her hair, cleaning her apartment, making food. Then she’d summoned the strength and energy to make phone calls. She’d called Darlene Wilson, Sam’s mom, to break the news, and offer her condolences. Maggie had never met Darlene in person, they had spoken over the phone and through emails up until the time Riley died, but she could still hear the pain in Mamma Wilson’s voice when Maggie told her what she already knew in her heart.

The following day Maggie summoned the courage and strength to reach out to the James Martinez-Proctor, who confirmed that he had survived, along with Elizabeth and Stephanie, while his other two sisters Mary and Jenny had not. James hadn’t been able to stay on the phone long but had sent her an email with a list of who had survived, and they promised to stay in touch in the coming days, as they continued to work through what had happened.

James had concluded his email with, ‘We are survivors, and we will continue to live on. It’s what mother would’ve expected from us, and she did no less after losing her brother and her father to the war and so many others since. I hope you find the strength to do the same.’

Maggie hadn’t had the chance to tell him about Wakanda, or any of what had transpired since they’d last talked. It wasn’t the time, not now, not this soon after everyone had lost so much. Instead, she focused on moving forward, pressing on, on finding a way not to lose herself entirely to the soul-crushing, bone-breaking, all-encompassing grief that enveloped the world around her.

First, she started by trying to cut through all the red tape and shore up loose ends. The first of which had becoming not “legally” dead. That had been a tricky one, but it had occupied her time for a fair bit as she waded through bureaucracy. She’d also checked on the Llorna network. They were still in operation so far as the scant bit of intel she managed to gather could tell her. Finally, she consolidated her bank account from before her two-year hiatus overseas.

Then there were physical things that she knew she needed to do. Trim her hair, work on physical therapy for her hand, and she’d started running again, trying to keep depression at bay, and provide a useful outlet for all of her pent up energy.

Finally, as if that wasn’t entirely too much for one mind to handle, Maggie had started thinking of long term goals, and the abstract. Not long and hard, but enough to where the future was present in her mind at least once a day. Things like supply chain for rural communities, and sustainable farming, green energy, and renewable resources. What was her part and her place in all of that?

_Oh, and remember to breathe._

Maggie stopped running, her muscles burning, her lungs aching, and she glanced around at the gently rolling hills around the compound, all cloaked in fog and mist. She wiped at the sweat forming on her brow. It was early still, five or six-ish, but even for that time of day, the world was too quiet.

_Finish your jog, and make it back to your apartment, you need to make breakfast and make your to-do list for the day._

Her stomach growled, and she took off running again, her ears attuned to her surroundings and her body, her mind entirely focused on breathing.

Around a quarter past six, she made it back to her apartment but froze in the doorway as she spotted none other than Steve Rogers standing in her kitchen. His back to her, there was a large pot of coffee on the stove and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice on the counter behind him.

“Well, hello there,” Maggie commented brightly. “I didn’t know I was expecting a visitor. Otherwise, I would’ve stayed in from my morning run to receive you.”

“I knew you’d be out. Though you might want breakfast after your run.” Steve answered without turning around to face her. His tone was even, flat practically, and Maggie couldn’t help but wonder what had spurred such a spontaneous act from him.

“That’s very thoughtful, Steve, let me go hop in the shower real fast, and I’ll be back out.” She said, and without waiting for a response from him, continued into her bedroom.

Stripping down and jumping into the shower, Maggie puzzled at Steve’s sudden appearance.

Maggie hadn’t seen much of Steve since Stark’s return to earth. That had been an ordeal. Which, of course, had been immediately followed by the even more horrific realization that Thanos had destroyed the stones.

Stark had left the compound shortly thereafter, along with Banner, and Thor who had each gone their separate ways. The Raccoon thing, Rocket, and the blue Cyborg spacewoman who’d arrived with Stark, Nebula, had left with a woman who called herself Captain Marvel.

Rhodes, by contrast, was in and out of the compound on a regular basis on Avengers business, which left her, Natasha, and Steve as the sole permanent residents. Though she got the feeling by Steve’s self-isolation and prolonged absences, he was planning on making his exit sometime soon.

Was that was this was about? Was he going to tell her he was leaving? Where would he go? What sort of life was he going to seek out for himself? What about Natasha? What about the Avengers (Or what was left of them anyway)? What about her?

Maggie tried not to think about that too hard. It was one of several things she’d been avoiding on her long list of things to do.

After washing and drying, Maggie dressed in a pair of old sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, before padding back out to where Steve Rogers was still making her breakfast.

“You have a good shower?” He asked as she reemerged in his line of sight.

“It was refreshing,” She answered.

“That’s good,” He nodded.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Coffee is up if you want to serve yourself a cup, and orange juice is chilling in the fridge,” Steve said, without skipping a beat.

Maggie nodded appreciatively before heading over to the stove where he had made coffee in the stovetop percolator. She poured herself a cup, took a sip, and sighed.

Somehow, she’d expected it to taste like Bucky’s coffee. She hadn’t been able to get it quite right since she’d gotten back. Perhaps part of her had hoped that it was some sort of old-timey WWII trick that she just didn’t get. But, Maggie conceded, it could be any number of factors, the beans, the heat source, the water. Or it could just be one more thing that Bucky had done for her that no one else could quite copy. Yet another gap, another empty space in her life now that he was gone.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Coffee’s good.” Maggie cleared her throat, shuffling to the bar stools, not quite willing to fess up to her train of thought or bring Bucky up around Steve quite yet. “I was wondering if I should be hydrating with coffee or not after my run.” She smiled.

Settling on the barstool, she set the coffee cup down, and she quickly braided her hair, watching Steve out of the corner of her eye. Steve was at the stove where he was making what appeared to be an egg white omelet with carrots, chives, cheese, and mushroom.

 _What are you doing here?_ She wanted to ask him. Though she knew that any misstep could lead to another prolonged disappearance.

She had dinner with Natasha as frequently as possible. Steve always ducked in a moment before walking back out with some business to take care of. Was it her? Was it the situation? Was there something else going on that she wasn’t aware of? Maggie didn’t know, because she’d never gotten more than a few minutes with Steve to ask, which was why this whole situation was suspect.

When the omelet had cooked, Steve slid it onto a plate and set it in front of her, before also pouring her another cup of coffee, and getting her a glass of orange juice and a glass of water. She watched as he moved around her, and she wondered, what’s actually going on?

Wordlessly she cut into the omelet, still watching Steve while he cleaned up. There didn’t seem to be any horrible news looming over him, though all bad news seemed to be diminished in the face of an apocalypse. Still, he seemed more pensive than anxious, which wasn’t exactly _better_ when it came to any sliding scale of news, but different than what she was expecting from him.

Part of her wanted to just take Steve’s kind gesture at face value. It had been a while since they’d seen one another, and while the world was literally in pieces at the moment, the act of him making her breakfast reminded her of simpler times. It was familiar, comforting somehow, and she wished that her mind wasn’t on edge and that she could just take Steve’s presence as a comfort rather than an omen of something horrible to come.

She missed their daily briefs, with her, Sam, Steve, and sometimes Natasha. During the whole miserable affair of looking for Bucky, she’d dreaded it, but now that she looked back on that time, Maggie realized that they’d had camaraderie and fellowship and a common goal. They’d been able to laugh and joke, and just _talk_. Now, deprived of a goal, and missing key players, they sort of just floated around one another, listless and without intention. This was the first time in weeks she’d had a conversation with Steve, a _real_ conversation, and even then, she knew that there was something else at work.

When she’d finished, Steve took her plate and poured her another cup of coffee before returning to the sink to wash the rest of the dishes.

“Thank you for breakfast, Steve. I was probably going to skip it, and just have coffee,” She admitted, cupping her mug with both hands.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Glad I could assist.” Steve answered, towel over his shoulder, back to her.

Maggie set the mug down, her right hand going to her left wrist, fiddling with her bracelet, her mind working overtime as she tried to figure out how to ask the obvious question without being confrontational. “What’s going on, Steve?” She asked as gently as she could manage while still being heard over the running water.

Steve sighed with a nod, his shoulders sagging as if he’d been expecting her question but was also somehow relieved that she’d finally asked. Turning off the water, he turned to face her. “I thought you should see this.” He answered as he reached across the bar to the file folder sitting a few feet away and slid it in front of her.

Silently, Maggie took the folder, and opened it, skimming through the first few pages, she felt shock, disbelief, despair, anger, and guilt flood over her.

It was a real estate listing for the ranch, _her_ ranch, though she could hardly call it that anymore. She hadn’t _owned_ much of anything in four years since she’d been declared dead, but there it was, for sale by owner.

 _I thought Sam had taken care of—_. But of course, Sam had been on the run for two years. His assets had been frozen, payments that should have been made hadn’t been made. Maggie flipped through the dossier Steve had worked up, a mounting feeling of pain swelled in her chest, stabbing at her heart, twisting her stomach. But she did not look away as she surveyed the evidence of struggle, reading the descriptions of the gofundme and other fundraising efforts to keep the ranch from going into foreclosure.

_I should’ve been there with them. I should have been there to make it right._

How? She hadn’t been doing any better at the time of the fire. She’d been weeks away from having to do the same thing. How could she have done any better? But perhaps, more importantly, was this: why was Steve showing her this _now?_ Maggie didn’t know, but she looked up at Steve, who was watching her expectantly.

What did he want her to stay? What was he trying to do by showing her this? Blinking heavily, she surveyed the listing. It had been listed about a week ago, and Suzanne’s name was listed in the seller contact information. Which meant she was alive. It meant that at least one person from the ranch had survived this stupid apocalypse bullshit. Though the ‘For Sale,’ on the ranch, was not a good sign.

“Steve, why are you showing me this?” Maggie managed after a moment, as she blinked heavily.

“I know what that place meant to you, and to—to Sam,” Steve’s voice seized around the other man’s name, and Maggie thought he might not make it through the rest of the sentence, but he rallied magnificently to conclude, “I thought you’d deserved to find out from me what had happened.”

Maggie nodded, turning her eyes back to the photos in the posting. The barn was still there, along with the outbuilding and the other small buildings that dotted the property. The house, on the other hand, was gone. Someone or a group of someones had been kind enough to clear away the wreckage of the burnt, charred mass of house that had once been there, and the foundation was cleared off, waiting for a new structure.

“Maggie, I want to make this right.” Steve continued, an audible lump in his throat.

“What?” She stammered, her head snapping up to look at him.

“I couldn’t bring them back, I couldn’t fix what Thanos did to the world, but after everything you did for us, everything you did for me, and for—for him.” Steve faltered a moment, unable to make himself say Bucky’s name. He paused, clearing his throat, he continued, “after everything you lost, everything you sacrificed, you deserve the chance to go home. If I can make that happen, I’m willing to do whatever it takes.” Steve said firmly.

 _Home._ If this had been two years ago, she might have rejoiced at the prospect of returning to the ranch. She’d dreamed of going back, of getting her life back. It was what she wanted, it was the reason that she’d agreed to help Steve track down Bucky, or at the very least, it was the reason that she’d initially agreed to track him down. Now that all felt like a lifetime ago, the dreams and wishes of a different person, someone that Maggie could remember, but if she’d passed her former self in the street, Maggie wasn’t sure if she’d recognize that person.

Was that the reason why she hadn’t checked in on her volunteers and former patients? That she had moved on, and she shouldn’t dredge up the past? Or was there something else preventing her from reaching out?

“What about you? And Natasha?” Maggie countered.

It was a cheap move and a deflection. If this were Bucky or Sam she was talking to, they would’ve called her out on that fact. But this was Steve, who either wouldn’t or couldn’t confront her, though on what basis Maggie would never know. Still, the question was valid, and one that she’d pondered in the weeks since the end of the world. If she was going to leave the compound, where would she go, and could she get Natasha and Steve to go with her? Now, it seemed, Steve was giving her a where. All she needed to know was if they were open to the possibility of leaving the compound and retiring to the slow life.

“We’ll find our way.”

“You could come with me, you know.” It came out before she could stop herself, as if she’d somehow already made up her mind and that this was the next logical step to take.

“So you’re considering my offer,” He countered her question with a frustrating amount of ease.

“I don’t know, Steve.” Maggie shook her head, setting down the file. She rubbed her face. It was too early in the morning still to be thinking about all of this.

It was a lot of money. It was _a lot_ of money. And it wasn’t just the mortgage that she was worried about. Operational costs, taxes, finding a way to live off the land, or finding a way to mend all of the broken supply chains would be expensive too. She’d barely been able to make the mortgage when the world hadn’t just experienced universe-wide genocide.

Maggie also knew that were solutions to all of the problems she had just listed, aside from the worldwide genocide, of course. She had been reading up on sustainable farming practices in the area, how to set up a solar and wind farms, how to purify water, what animals were best for their fur, their milk, and meat. That was just trying to deal with issues the world was facing. It didn’t mean anything. It certainly didn’t mean anything as it related to the ranch, or her leaving the compound. Besides, reading was one thing; putting it into practice was another thing entirely.

“Think about it,” Steve said earnestly.

“I am Steve. It’s a lot of money.”

“Don’t worry about that, just tell me you’ll think about it.”

“I will. I _am._ ” She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s just very ambitious, even for me.”

Steve nodded, but before he could say anything, his phone buzzed.

Maggie sighed as he took his phone out of his pocket and started tapping out a response. _Somethings never change._ She couldn’t help but think bitterly as she prepared for what was inevitably going to be, _I gotta go._ What business could he possibly have now? What urgent appointment was going to send him away? The world had ended, the worst had happened, what need was there for Captain America anymore?

“You have guests downstairs waiting for you,” Steve said, glancing up at her.

“Me?” Maggie stammered, doing her best not to feel too guilty over her less than generous thoughts only moment before.

“Yeah. We should go.” He nodded.

Pulling on house shoes and a cardigan, she followed Steve out of her apartment, locking the door behind her. They didn’t say anything as they wound through the compound, and Maggie wasn’t really sure who to expect. They’d been relatively isolated in the last fifty-eight days as everyone had tried to make sense of what had happened.

Fortunately, Maggie didn’t have to wonder very long.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! It’s so good to see you!” Maggie practically screeched as she rushed to Teela, pulling the woman into an embrace.

“It is good to see you to my friend,” Tee answered with a low chuckle.

They drew apart after a moment, and Maggie surveyed her. “What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you!”

“I told you I would be in touch,” Nakia answered from behind Teela. “And I thought a friendly face would be welcome at a time like this.”

“This is amazing how is—” The words dried on Maggie’s lips as she saw Teela was wearing her head wrap in a widow’s knot.

For a brief second, a fraction of a moment she’d forgotten. How could she have forgotten? “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Maggie said, her voice more subdued now as she bowed her head.

“As I am for what you have lost as well,” Teela answered.

“Sis—”

“Has taken over his father’s place with great dignity and strength. We do miss you around the village and around the shop. Your skills and your tenacity were well appreciated and admired while you were working with us.”

“I miss it too. I miss all of you.”

Teela nodded appreciatively, hazarding a small smile. “But your place is here, and I have no doubt you will use all of your heart and strength in whatever you chose to do next.” She paused, glancing over at Nakia, who nodded. “We do have some business to take care of, and we have brought your possessions.”

“Business?” Maggie glanced at Nakia, who then made eye contact with Steve.

“Captain is there perhaps someplace we can all sit and talk. There are somethings the provisional government of Wakanda needs to clarify with Magdalene.”

“Of course.” Steve nodded, “Follow me.”

Maggie’s stomach twisted and churned, her brain running wild.

When they reached the conference room, they all sat, Steve sat to her left while Nakia and Teela sat across from them. Reaching into her bag, Nakia produced a packet of paperwork and a pen and set it on the table.

“You are one of the only American civilians ever to step foot inside Wakanda. Things being as they are right now and given the access you had to several Wakandan state secrets, we need your assurances that you will maintain discretion in all sensitive matters pertaining to the duration of your within our country’s sovereign borders.” Nakia said shortly, sliding the paperwork across the table toward her.

Maggie nodded, taking it in hand, slowly and carefully read through the fine print. It was fundamentally a non-disclosure agreement, which made sense. Wakanda was a small but highly advanced nation. If the world found out everything it was capable of would likely take advantage of the King and the Princess’s disappearance to strip Wakanda of its natural resources. She had no desire to turn on a country that had taken her in as their own, and rat them out to anyone who had a hand in forcing Sam on the run or would’ve put her or anyone she loved in a prison cell.

“Your country and King did more for me and my loved ones that I could hope to expect or deserve. Whatever assurance I can give, I give it freely.” She answered, uncapping the pen, applied her signature to the proper lines.

When she was finished, she sealed the pen and slid both the paperwork and pen across the table back to Nakia. Reviewing the documents, Nakia nodded, before removing a sealed envelope from her bag. “We wanted to give you something as a token of our appreciation for your work while in Wakanda, as well as for your understanding of the _sensitivity_ of the world situation at the moment.I have also included a flash drive with all of your photos, videos, and audio files that were created while you were in our borders.”

Maggie swallowed wordlessly as she took the envelope from the table, holding it in both hands, She briefly contemplated opening it then and there, but it didn’t feel right to do so. So instead, she shoved it in her pocket, and glanced back up at Nakia and Teela, trying to get her brain to fully comprehend that they were here. “How is the village and everyone that remains?” She managed in her rusty Wakandan.

Teela smiled weakly and nodded. “Life goes on, Cowgirl. Would you like to hear?”

“Always.”

They sat and talked for what seemed like hours, while Steve and Nakia occasionally ducked in and out of the room. The weaving circle still happened every week, as did the Bao game and poetry recitation. There were still goats to herd and horses to shoe and markets to attend. As Teela had said, life went on, even if there were fewer people to partake in that life with them. Life had to go on, and all anyone could do was try their best to fill in the gaps left by those who had been taken before their time.

Eventually, when there was a lull in their conversation as news, and happier memories ran dry, Nakia reinserted herself into their surroundings. “Captain Rogers and I have moved your belongings to your apartment, Magdalene, and while you and Teela were talking, I had a chance to meet with Natasha Romanoff.”

“Oh?” Maggie glanced between Steve and Nakia, uncertain of where this was going next.

“She tells me that you were looking for information on the condition of the Llorna Network.” Nakia continued.

“Yes.”

“They are safe, those that remain. The Maria you draggedto safety during your extraction from Juarez is now one of the leaders,” Nakia paused, allowing this information to soak in a moment. Maggie sat there, rendered speechless. “They will be protected, as much as anyone can be, but I would advise you not to go looking for information. You don’t want to attract any more attention than necessary.”

 _There are eyes on you._ Nakia’s words spoke loudly, and Maggie took their meaning. She nodded. “I understand. Thank you.” She paused, watching as both women exchanged looks, and nods, signaling that the visit was drawing to a close. “Can I keep in touch with you and Teela?” Maggie rushed, glancing between the two women. “I would like to hear news from the village.”

Nakia and Teela exchanged glanced before Nakia nodded, producing a sheet of paper and pen from her bag. Maggie took it, quickly writing down her email address and returned both to Nakia.

“Thank you, thank you both so much for everything.” Maggie managed as they rose.

They exchanged a round of hugs and goodbyes before they walked out to the landing pad, where another round of hugs and goodbyes were exchanged. Finally breaking apart, Teela took a long look at Maggie before speaking. “It was good to see you, Cowgirl. Let us hope to meet again under happier circumstances and better times.”

Maggie nodded, giving Teela one last hug before they both boarded the Wakandan aircraft, the ship’s rear bay door closing behind them.

Taking a step back, She and Steve watched as the ship took off, cloaking in mid-air, gone without a trace.

They stood there a long moment as a rush of emotions passed over her. “Would you walk back to my place with me, Steve?” She asked weakly.

“I was going to suggest that, actually, we couldn’t get in your room, so you’re going to need some help getting your stuff into the apartment.” He paused, glancing over at her. “Since when did you start locking your door?”

“Oh.” Maggie smiled with a weak chuckle. “It’s a new habit I’m not 100% on it, but Natasha always did tell me that I should work on that.”

“I know. That’s how I got into your place this morning.” He said with a small, half-hearted smile.

“I always did say that you and Natasha wouldn’t need a key to get into my place, but I appreciate that you respect my privacy.”

“Of course. But an unlocked door would’ve been useful when I was offloading your loom.”

“My loom?” Maggie gasped. But of course. That had been _her_ loom. She’d purchased it with her wages. “They brought my loom?”

“They did.”

“Well, let's go!” She rushed. Maggie’s heart pounded, as they walked back through the compound, leading the way this time, and couldn’t help but smile at the pile of _stuff_ just outside her door as they approach, her loom among them.

Although a protective tarp covered it, she could see that it was still strung with the project she’d been working on, just before her whole world had turned upside down. There were also the storage baskets that she and Bucky had picked out and used to keep all of their belongings, a couple of large wooden crates, and her sleeping mat rolled and propped up against the door.

Tucking the sleeping mat under her arm, Maggie unlocked the door. Sidestepping, she let Steve by her with her loom, which he positioned against one of the many blank walls. Quietly, they moved the baskets out from the hallway into the living room.

When they’d completed their task, Maggie laughed breathlessly, hands on her hips as she surveyed the living room now cluttered with _stuff._ “Yanno. I didn’t think I had this much crap with me in Wakanda.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed dryly with a small nod. “Do you miss Wakanda?” He asked slowly after a moment.

Maggie sighed, heavily, but nodded. “I miss a lot of things, Steve.” She answered, picking her way through the piles of her belongings, wondering where she should start unpacking, or even if she should _bother_ thinking about doing anything at the moment _._

It had taken her weeks to sort through her go bag and satchel, and Bucky’s journals, scarf, and nub cap now all occupied a single dresser drawer, out of sight and out of mind. She could only imagine the emotional toll it was going to take to get through the rest of their stuff and start to sort through the remains of her old life.

It had been good to see Teela and Nakia, even with the present situation being what it was. It had been nice to talk about the village and life, and how even now, even despite the pain and loss that community was trudging on, trying to heal and make the best out of what was a horrifying and truly unknowable ordeal.

Meanwhile, it felt like she’d been frozen in time here. Unable to move forward, but unable to go back. It was why she’d started her daily lists, and why she was actually thinking about Steve’s offer, whatever the specifics might be, of getting the ranch back, of getting to go home.

But would it be home anymore? After everything, would she be able to call the Ranch home? Furthermore, would she be able to face the people she’d left behind, the people who thought she was dead, people who’d grieved for her, and ask them to welcome her back with open arms? Would they welcome her back? Would they be glad to see her after everything that had happened because of her? Would they be angry at her for not coming back sooner, for staying away as long as she did?

Maggie didn’t know, and maybe that was part of what was holding her back, part of her hesitance to wholly and completely accept Steve’s offer without reserve.

Still, Maggie knew she missed community. She missed Wakanda, and she missed their little team for the same reason she’d missed the ranch so much. She worked better in a community. She worked better when it was a community of her own making. Could she forge out another community out of all of this loss? Maggie didn’t know.

“So, you really know how to use this thing?” Steve asked as he carefully removed the protective cover from the loom.

Maggie blinked, glancing over to where he stood beside the massive machine. “I did. I was getting quite good too.” She answered, running her hands over the closest basket, feeling the woven reeds under her fingertips.

Maggie started to open the nearest lid, but stopped, glancing between the basket and where Steve was occupying himself folding the cover. These contained her life from Wakanda, both of their lives, in fact, everyday items that she and Bucky had used. Maggie had been there with Bucky, and she knew what to expect from what she was about to unpack, but Steve, would Steve be ready to take that journey with her?

Unlikely, Maggie knew. He couldn’t even say Bucky’s name, he could barely say Sam’s, and that was a struggle too. She couldn’t subject him to this, not right now, not when she’d just had the first conversation with him in almost three months. Not when he was this fragile.

“Steve.” Maggie began slowly. “I think Bucky’s stuff is going to be in here too.” She said, trying to keep the leaden dread out of her voice as she spoke.

Steve stiffened, turning around to meet her watchful gaze. “I know.” He answered bravely.

Maggie nodded, taking a deep breath. “We will _eventually_ need to go through their stuff and decide what to keep and what we can part with. But that doesn’t need to be right now.”

Steve’s jaw grit and he nodded, glancing around at the assortment of things cluttered around her living room. “You had a life with him, there in Wakanda.”

“For a moment.”

“From what he told me, it sounds like it was beautiful.” He slowly lowered his head, taking a few deep breaths. “But it was a life that I had no part in, and it’s something I won’t lay claim to. What you chose to do with his belongings from Wakanda is entirely up to you.”

Was that bitterness in his voice or regret? Maggie couldn’t quite tell, but it filled her up and threatened to overwhelm her. Swallowing hard, she searched for the right words to fill the loud silence that echoed between them, the unspoken words, the difficult conversations of two people who loved the same man. “It’s not easy to share someone you love with another person. But it is a beautiful thing, to have that capacity to share your love with a multitude.” Maggie said slowly. “Bucky loved you as much as he loved me. I think he loved us in different ways, but you were just as much a part of his life as I was.” She stopped, swallowing hard at the lump that formed in her throat. “When you’re ready, we can sort through his things.”

“We’re going to have to do that for Sam too. And Wanda. The Barnes-Martinez-Proctors are working through their stuff as well.” Steve shook his head, his eyes down. Sniffing, he wiped at his nose with the back of his hands.

“Come here, Steve,” Maggie said firmly even as she crossed the room toward him. She wrapped her arm around his muscular frame, his shoulders shaking from the effort not to cry. Steve put his hand against the back of her head, lowering his face into the top of her hair.

“It’s so much, Maggie. There’s just _so much,_ and it’s all my fault.” His voice was hoarse and raw as the words escaped his lips, and she could feel the shame as it radiated off him. “They’re gone, and it’s my fault.”

Maggie held him even tighter, her words failing her. “Then come with me, Steve. Come back to the ranch with me.” It came out of her before she could stop it. But she knew it was true. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t stay here with everything around them was a reminder of what they’d lost: their family, their friends, the _world,_ they’d lost the world.

Steve paused, stepping back, he surveyed her, a multitude of questions on his face, but he only managed “I can’t.” He shook his head. “I have to find a way to make it right.”

“Why?” Maggie asked. “You said after everything I’ve sacrificed, everything I’ve lost, I deserve to go home. You deserve to go home too, Steve. Please. You and Natasha both come with me, you don’t need to stay here, you _shouldn’t_ stay here.” She pleaded

“Someone should stay here. The world still needs—” Steve cut himself off, and he shook his head. “There’s still work to be done.”

 _Fuck the world! Fuck the Avengers! Fuck the shield! Fuck Captain America!_ Maggie wanted to scream, but to what end? What purpose or end would it serve? It certainly wouldn’t put her on good terms with Steve, and Steve was one of the last few people she had left. Instead, she sighed, rubbing her face, and looked around. “Maybe the world doesn’t need Captain America or the Avengers anymore.” She said weakly. “But I know that I _need_ Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. I need my family, and you two are all that I have left now.”

 _Because of me, t_ he words very nearly formed on his lips, and Maggie could see it in his eyes, it was what he wanted to say, but he didn’t.

“Steve. I can’t make it a home if I don’t have my family.” Maggie continued when he didn’t say anything. “There is no going home without my family. You said you wanted to give me a chance to go home, then come with me. You can open an art studio, Nat and I can keep bees and make mead. We can keep a garden together, and raise sheep and and goats start to piece _our_ world and _our family_ back together.” 

The words poured out of her, her bucolic daydream spilling into the room and taking form as she spoke. She needed community, she needed family, she needed support, and right now Steve and Nat were her best chance at that, and Maggie knew that if she could convince Steve, getting Natasha onboard would be that much easier.

“There’s a life for you beyond just being Captain America. There’s more _to_ you than being Captain America.” Becca’s reminder passed over her lips before she could stop them.

How long had she held onto those words? How many times could she have used them before now? It didn’t matter. They were out in the open, and Maggie watched Steve as her voice died off into nothing, absorbing into the empty silence of the world around them, unsure if they’d managed to hit their intended mark.

Maggie’s chest heaved from the effort of not crying, her mind spinning too fast for any reasonable amount of thought to reach her sleep-deprived and addled brain. “Please, Steve. _Please._ ” She could hear that she was begging. But after fifty-eight days, she had the making of a plan, and she was going to hold onto that as tight as she could, for as long as she was able.

“Thank you, Ramirez,” Steve said slowly, each word uttered with measured intent. “But, I can’t.”

 _Can’t or won’t?_ Maggie wanted to ask but didn’t. She had pushed too hard, and now he was going to dig his feet in the sand and stand firm.

Steve didn’t say anything further as he took a moment and glanced around the room and at the assorted artifacts of her and Bucky’s life together. As he did, Maggie could see a transformation take place: he stood up straighter, his shoulders back, his jaw grit, his expression firm. The armor of Captain America, a shield against the outside world. “I can find the banking information for you, and we can talk about how we want to get the Ranch signed over to you sometime tomorrow.” He said, his words all business.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Steve,” She answered. “I have a copy of all of the banking information in my files. They should have everything I need.” Her words felt cold and cutting even as she said them, but what else was there that she could possibly say? “Thank you.” Maggie continued after a moment, trying to imbue her words with as much warmth and sincerity as she could manage. “For breakfast, and showing me the listing, and for offering to help.”

“Of course. It’s the least I could do.” He paused, looking her up and down. “Whatever I can do to help you get it back, let me know.”

Maggie nodded, “I will.”

Steve nodded in return, “I should go. I know you probably would like some space to unpack.”

“Yeah. That’ll be good.” She agreed, turning as he walked to the door. “Steve?” Maggie called before he could walk from the apartment.

“Yeah?” He stopped mid-stride, turning his head to level his gaze with her’s.

“You know you’re invited to dinner with Natasha and me, right?” There was hesitance in his expression, but he slowly nodded. “I miss you and wouldn’t mind seeing you more often.”

“When’s the next one?”

“Tomorrow at 6:30 sharp. Don’t be late.”

Steve nodded again, “I’ll do my best,” he answered, and without another word, he walked from the apartment.

Maggie stared at the space he’d just occupied, frozen to the spot, her mind racing. “Well. That was just…awful.” She said out loud. What else was there to say?

‘ _Steve’s stubborn, doll, remember? Don’t beat yourself up if he doesn’t listen to you, he sure as hell never listened when I tried to tell him something he didn’t want to hear.’_ She could practically hear Bucky laugh.

‘ _Besides, when did you ever react well to someone telling you what you should do?’_ Sam’s voice intoned in the back of her mind.

Maggie took a deep breath. _Breathe in, breathe out. After that, everything comes easy, right?_

She glanced around at the assorted, baskets, and boxes, wondering where she should start. _Slowly, one step at a time._ Maggie started with a small, unassuming basket. It contained all of their scarves and hair wraps, easy enough to sort, and put away. Then there was a large wooden crate that contained her saddle and tack, which she put over one of the arms of the love seat in her living room. There were her baskets of clothes and Bucky’s scant few pieces that he’d worn down to almost nothing, many of them with poorly patched holes that he hadn’t allowed her to fix for him. There were cooking implements, and tools that they’d purchased and acquired, small nick nacks they’d collected like her wooden bird shaped picture holders.

Every new basket and box revealed hidden treasures, each heavy with memories. Most of them happy memories but were now tinged with an edge of bitter sadness that she tried her hardest not to linger on for too long.

It felt like Christmas, filled with surprise and wonder, but unlike Christmas in that every new package was filled with an unmistakable air of grieving. Maggie trudged forward, unpacking each basket, trying to find a place for each item in her apartment.

In a strange way, that felt foolish too. If she planned on leaving and somehow going back to the ranch, wouldn’t it just be easier for her to keep things packed away until she reached the place she intended to stay for a while?

 _No._ It wouldn’t make sense to carry all of this with her. She would need to be strategic about what baggage she decided to carry with her. It seemed right to Maggie that she had to to unpack her old life and all of its baggage before she could start her new one.

_Are you going to haul it around in a big suitcase or in a man purse?_

That had been one of Sam’s favorite canned lines. Glancing around her at the dwindling pile of _stuff,_ Maggie could appreciate the potency of such a metaphor, and was eternally grateful that she wasn’t hauling around more physical _and_ emotional baggage. Sam would appreciate that. He would also appreciate how literally she was taking his advice in her present circumstances, too.

Maggie worked through lunch, unpacking, and putting away her old life. She was down to two more baskets when she took a break for dinner.

 _What’s the next step? What’s the next step?_ That question repeated over and over in her head, driving her forward, creating a type of momentum.

In her heart, Maggie knew what the next step was, but _how_ remained to be seen. She had some money saved when she’d been on the Stark Industries/Avengers payroll. Then there was also the Wakandan money, however much that might be. But there wouldn’t be enough to outright pay for the ranch or the taxes on the property. Steve _had_ offered to help, but something felt wrong about accepting money from Steve. Perhaps it was because she’d feel like she _owed_ Steve something, and this was something that she was determined to do herself. Then again that type of ‘do it yourself’ attitude had gotten her in hot water the first time around. _No man is an island._ And boy had she learned that the hardest way possible.

_Finish unpacking, see how much the Wakandans gave you, and then pull out the bank information from when Sam created the trust. When you have a baseline for how much you need, then you can give Steve a figure for how he can help._

It was a sound plan, and Maggie focused on the individual steps as she worked on cooking and eating dinner.

After she’d wrapped up dinner, she situated the two baskets in front of her. She knew what she was expecting; after all, she really didn’t own _that_ much, and what else was missing?

Opening the larger of the two baskets, she removed the blankets stored within: Her and Bucky’s plainsman blankets, and then the blanket that she’d woven as a gift for him, the blanket that they’d used on their bed up to the day that the world had ended.

Maggie took the blanket in both hands and slowly lifted it to her face. More than anything, she’d hoped that it might smell like Bucky, that perhaps some of their warmth had somehow been trapped in the fibers of the blanket and preserved for her to soak in now.

When she breathed in Maggie found that It smelled like Wakanda, like the dry, dusty hut they’d occupied, but any hint of Bucky’s individual scent was now long gone. Still, Maggie held it to her body, remembering the weight and feel of it on her bare skin, comforted by its presence after such a long and unexpected absence, drawing strength to open the last and final basket. It was small and secured with ribbon in the same knot she’d tied what felt a lifetime ago now.

Working the knot, the ribbon eventually gave way, and she opened the basket, removing the contents from inside. There were two stacks of letters, a set she’d written to Bucky and a set Bucky had written to her. They’d started letter writing when they’d been taking a break but still wanted to keep in contact, and then had continued the practice when it became clear it would help them communicate better. In her rush to pack when they’d been evacuating, she’d completely forgotten them.

Maggie flipped through the ones that Bucky had sent her, looking for one, in particular, her hands shaking as they brushed the well-worn envelopes. Removing the grubbiest envelope from the stack, she removed the letter from within. 

Just as well worn and grimy as the envelope, the paper still held all the same lines she remembered, and Maggie ran her fingers over the careful pen strokes that made up Bucky’s careful handwriting.

“ _Dear Mags,”_ The letter began. _“It sounds like you’re doing well. I’m glad you’ve kept up with therapy and that it seems to be helping even if it is hard. It’s been nice to receive letters from you, though I can say that they pale in comparison to having you here in person.”_

His handwriting had then gotten bunched up and cramped as he’d described his day and what he’d been watching, reading, and listening. She knew this letter by heart, and the sheer mundanity of it all made her heartache. But the thing she was looking for, the reason she’d picked this letter out of the dozens they’d exchanged was for the last line.

_“I miss you and your presence in my every day mundane life, but I know why you’re doing this, and I think it’s important that you keep going, and when you’re ready, when the time is right, we’ll get to see more of each other._

_Until then, I remain yours truly,_

_J.B.B.”_

She’d read and re-read that letter in her moments of weakness when she’d wanted to give up going to therapy, when she’d wanted to fall back into her old habits and thinking patterns. _Keep going._ He’d urged. _This is important; keep going._

_Whatever happens next, you’re going to be okay._

Maggie returned the letter to the envelope, and the envelope to the stack before she wiped at her face and the tears that had started to stream down her cheeks.

 _This is important; keep going._ His words, now so distant and far away in time and space, were no less true.

“You still have a couple more things on your to-do list to accomplish before the day is out,” Maggie grumbled to herself as she returned the stack of letters to their place in the small basket.

Rising, she draped their blanket over her arm and padded over to the office. Switching on the lights, she set the blanket on the couch, before continuing to her computer. Turning it on, she turned to her filing cabinets as she waited for the computer to boot up. After a moment of rooting around through her old filing system, she pulled the files she needed and removed the envelope Nakia had given her from her pocket before settling into her desk chair.

The envelope felt slightly soggy now that it had been in her sweatpants for the better part of the day, the seal pulling away from the closure from the humidity. Maggie fished the jump drive out of the envelope from inside without opening it entirely, not quite ready to see what the Wakandans had given her.

Plugging the flash drive into the computer, she braced, waiting for some kind of prompt or password requirement. Instead, it opened the containing folder, where someone had very kindly organized it “Magdalene Ramirez Files” and “James Barnes Files.”

She clicked on her own file folder first and found it was further organized into Photos, Videos, audio, and miscellaneous data.

Clicking again, she opened the photos folder and clicked on a photo at random. “Oh. Jeezus. Fuckin’ hell Barnes,” She burst out laughing as the photo of their “duck lip” selfie appeared on the screen. She laughed and laughed until she was crying.

Eventually gaining her composure, she clicked on a few more until she found the one she was looking for. The selfie they’d taken at the New Years’ Eve celebration.

Quietly, nearly reverentially, she surveyed each of the faces looking out at her, and the broad smiles on each of their faces: her and Bucky, The King and Nakia, Sam, Natasha, and Steve. Holy shit Sam, Steve, and Natasha had looked exhausted. But looking into the faces of her and Bucky, she could understand why she might not have seen the extent of their exhaustion. She’d been laughing, barely able to contain her composure long enough to get them all to pose for the picture. Bucky too was laughing, his nose and eyes scrunched, a broad smile on his face. The King and Nakia had been smiling too, in their composed, elegant ways, but there was genuine amusement and delight in their expressions as well.

Clicking print on that photo and a number of her selfies with Bucky, Maggie thought about other photos she’d taken, what felt like a lifetime ago, back on the ranch. The faces of her volunteers and her clients smiling out at her.

If she was going to go back to the ranch, she was going to have to face them, however many remained. What would they think? Would they be angry at her?

_Would you?_

Maggie glanced back at the screen, at the faces of Sam and Bucky and the King, and the faces of those surrounding them. 

If any one of them came back from the dead, back from where ever they’d been sent, she would be overjoyed at their return.

She rubbed her face as she looked down at the real estate listing in front of her, where Suzanne Harris was listed as the seller contact. All of this would be so much easier if she just reached out to Suzanne. They’d be able to problem solve, be able to work something out, figure out how to get themselves out of the situation they were in right now.

_Fuck._

Slowly, Maggie picked up her office phone, and her hands, independent of her brain and good sense, typed in Suzanne’s cell number and put the phone to her ear as it rang.

It seemed to ring on forever, and Maggie was just about to hang up when someone at the other end of the line. “Hello?” Suzzane’s voice called out, still gravely as it had ever been.

Maggie froze. Whatever it was that Maggie had thought she was going to say flew out the window. As if _Hello, it’s me, your dead friend Magdalene Ramirez back from the grave_ was going to receive anything other than a “Fuck you” before getting hung up on.

“Hello?” She called again.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ Slamming the phone back down on the receiver, Maggie stood up and grabbed a handful of her hair by the roots with both hands. “You fucking idiot.” She swore, pacing the length of the office.

Taking several deep breaths, she sat back down at the desk. “Okay, okay. Maybe fixing the ranch’s financial issues is more important than telling one of your dear friends that you’re not dead right now.” She exhaled in one long breath.

Which left only one more thing that Maggie could do. Picking up the envelope from Nakia, she ripped it open and removed the check from inside.

“Wow,” Maggie coughed.

Two years’ wages and their gratitude for her discretion, that’s what Nakia had said. Still, Maggie starred a moment at the number of zeroes on the check and felt as though she needed to get Steve to call Nakia right away to double-check if that was the _actual_ amount that they were giving her. But she had a feeling that such verification would both be rude, and verge on looking a very fat, healthy gift horse in the mouth.

“Well. Fuck.” She set the check down and looked the listing over. “That’ll certainly fix a few things.”

But Maggie knew the mortgage wasn’t the _only_ expense the ranch had incurred, and other expenses would rack up as she tried to get the ranch back up and running again.

Looking through the paperwork Sam had drawn up with the bank, the gofundme stories, and the real estate listings, Maggie pulled up a bit of scratch paper and started running the numbers.

Best case scenario, worst-case scenario, and all of the other possibilities in between she could account or factor for, maggie worked out the numbers longhand.

Her brain hummed, focusing all of its energy around what she was working on. When she was done, Maggie leaned back in her office chair, the scratch paper in one hand, her chin in the other.

_Holy shit, this might actually work._

There were a whole bunch of moving parts that she would need to arrange with Steve and the bank, but just from the raw numbers, it seemed like it might actually be doable.

 _Do you think you can pull it off?_

It was a long shot, but the chance to go home? The chance to go back to Last Chance and make another go at it? What else was she going to do? Stay around here and rot?

She couldn’t do that, not again, not when there was a chance, not when she had the resources and the opportunity to at very least _try._

Maggie exhaled slowly, releasing a shaking breath she hadn’t realized she been holding. Setting down her scratch paper, and very carefully paper clipping the check from the Wakandan Royal Treasury to the real estate listing, Maggie glanced over at the time, shining bright from her computer display.

It was 12:01 A.M.

It had been fifty-nine days since the end of the world, and she was back exactly where she’d started over two years ago, sitting alone in her office, in the dark, trying to find a way to get back home. Only now things were different. Only now, the absolute worst had happened. Only now she had the makings of a plan.

The world had ended, but that didn’t mean _she_ had ended.

She breathed in deeply and exhaled a large breath, as something inside of her tugged at the corners of her mouth, encouraging them up into a smile, a real smile—one of the first in a long time.

Was that hope she was feeling? It was small, no more than a flicker, but it lit up a dark place, igniting something inside her.

Rising and wrapping herself in the blanket she and Bucky had shared in Wakanda, she lay down on her ugly couch and starred at the ceiling, trying to imagine what the stars over their village might look like this time of year.

 _This might just work._ She repeated over and over and over to herself. _Whatever happens next, you’re going to be okay._

And for the first time in fifty-nine days, Maggie Ramirez actually believed that it just might be true. For the first time in fifty-nine days, Maggie Ramirez felt as though she could _make it_ true.

 _This is important; keep going._ And she would, as far as her feet would carry her, for as long as she could possibly manage.


	2. Who Say’s You Can’t Go Home Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way, shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> Recommended Listening: Chasing Twisters by Delta Ray; Travelin’ Through by Dolly Parton; Good-Bye Stranger by Supertramp; Hello by Adele
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=-NrjGzcEQ5y7MXHaegaAbw

Maggie was on her last jog around the compound. She would make herself breakfast and coffee for the last time in the compound apartment kitchen, and then she would load up the essentials and would drive out to Last Chance to get the keys and final paperwork from Suzanne.

It had been seventy-nine days since the end of the world, and twenty-one days since she’d devised a plan to make her move off of the Avenger’s property.

In the twenty-one days that had transpired since she’d made her decision, she had been productive, everything driving toward the singular task of getting back the ranch, ensuring the ranch’s long term success and Maggie’s long term survival as the steward of the property.

The bank business had been surprisingly easy. She had money, and now it was just a matter of moving it around, investing it, and make sure that it grew as the ranch grew.

The money, she’d found, was actually the easiest part. The Ranch was paid for, and Steve had insisted on putting a down payment on getting her house re-built. If everything went according to plan, she would we able to move in before winter set in.

It was the interpersonal and technical entanglements that had proved to be more difficult to sort through.

Maggie still hadn’t told Suzanne that she was the buyer, or that she was alive for that matter. It seemed like an in-person conversation rather than a phone call. Maggie just hoped that her instincts were correct and that Suzanne would be happy to see her, and it wouldn’t end in Maggie being decked by the older woman.

She had also been unable to convince Steve and Natasha to join her. Not that she could blame them for being hesitant. She was going to be living in the barn until the house was built. But she also knew their refusal was less on the accommodations and more based on something _fundamental_ to how they were handling the apocalypse.

Namely, they _weren’t_ and had somehow gotten it in their heads that they had to find a way to _fix_ what had happened, rather than finding a way forward.

Maggie didn’t blame them. She just wished she was stronger, bigger, tougher, and could haul them bodily over her shoulder and drag them away from the virtual tomb that the compound had become in the weeks since the end of life as they all knew it.

Yet, despite the fact that she was unable to tempt Steve and Natasha away and she was going to be making this journey alone, she was glad to be making it.

They would still see one another. She wasn’t moving all of her belongings at once. She couldn’t justify moving _most_ of what she owned on the simple basis that she was going to be living in a barn for a few months while everything was built. There was very little in the way of storage for all of that stuff, so she would be traveling back and forth, at least a few more times before her move was permanent.

But she wouldn’t be living there anymore. She wouldn’t have dinner with Natasha (and occasionally Steve) multiple times a week. She would be on her own for the first time in almost five years.

Well, if she played her cards right, she wouldn’t be _completely_ alone, but the only way she was going to find out is if she took a chance with everything that was going to happen next.

The technical issues she was getting ready to come up against were going to be far more play by ear. Things like making sure she had running water, internet, and other services that would help her get the whole operation up and running. She would then also have to oversee the house build.

_You’ll get it figured out. You have nothing but time._ Maggie reminded herself. _One step at a time._

_What you’re doing is important. Keep going._

_  
_ Maggie finished off her run, trying to keep the checklist in order so that once she got back in, showered, ate, and finished cleaning up, she’d be able to head off as soon as possible.

She entered the apartment and was about to pass the office on her way to the kitchen to start the coffee before she jumped in the shower, when she stopped short. A lone figure stood in the office, perfectly still, examining the blank wall where the map, documents, and pins had once occupied.

“Natasha?” Maggie stammered, doing a double-take. She hadn’t been expecting visitors, and something in her stomach turned. Was it that she expected bad news? Or was that just the general feeling now every time that she saw Steve and Natasha outside of mealtimes?

“Brought you coffee,” Natasha answered, turning to extend a disposable coffee cup to her.

“Thanks.” She said, stepping into the office and taking the coffee from her.

“Figured you had most everything packed away.” Natasha continued, glancing around the office. “Strange to see it so empty.”

Maggie nodded, taking a sip from the cup she’d been given, and tried to come up with what to say next.

“That map of yours was ingenious, you know. It was such a difficult process, having the visualization of where we’d looked made it easier to understand the scope of the thing.” She continued as Maggie drew a blank.

“I’m not sure I actually helped. But the map was an excellent tool.” Maggie agreed.

“You were closer than all of us. You should be proud of what you accomplished.”

Maggie didn’t know what to say to that, but she _did_ feel proud of what she’d accomplished. She’d found Becca’s brother and delivered her final message to a man everyone had thought lost to time. In the process, Maggie had healed and grown and overcome so much _baggage_ , and now, after all of that, Maggie was getting ready to go back to the ranch to get her life back.

Yet, Maggie knew there was a cost to this ability to go home, a cost some had paid for with their life. 

“Thank you.” She managed after a long moment.

“So you’re really going to do this, huh?” Natasha commented.

“Yeah. The plan is to meet Suzanne at noon. She’ll give me the keys, and I think we’re going to finalize the purchase for the two horses she kept after…well…you know.” Maggie paused, “You could come with me, you know.”

“I appreciate the offer, Ramirez, but I have things I need to look after here.”

 _You know you don’t have to do this, any of this._ That’s what Maggie wanted to say, but they’d had that conversation already, multiple conversations, and Maggie had yet to be on the winning side.

“I understand,” Maggie said, trying not to let the bitterness into her voice as she took another sip of coffee. “You know, I don’t think I ever said thank you.” She continued after a moment.

“For?” Natasha raised an eyebrow.

“Looking out for me, protecting me, keeping me alive, helping me survive the world of super spies and heroes. I was in over my head, and you extended a hand to pull me out,” She answered. Chewing on the inside of her mouth a moment, she decided to go for it. “I only wish there was some way I could save you the same way you saved me.”

It was a cheesy and maybe even corny a thing to say, but Maggie felt it. She knew that Sam and Bucky and everyone else they’d lost wouldn’t want Steve and Natasha to mope around the Avengers Compound, hoping against all hopes to find a way to _fix_ something that had more or less been an act of god. That wasn’t a conversation she was ready to have with them, yet, perhaps not ever. She would just have to hope if she kept asking, if she kept trying to coax them to go with her, she might one day be successful. 

“You make me want to be a better person, Ramirez,” Natasha answered.

Maggie lowered her head and took a deep breath. _You were already a good person._

 _  
_ “I didn’t want to get in your way while you’re trying to get packed up and ready to go. But I did want to give you this.” Natasha extended a slip of paper, which Maggie took.

“It only took being friends for four years to get your cell number, huh?” Maggie chuckled as she surveyed the number Natasha had written on the paper.

“If you need anything. You don’t have to wait until the house is built—” Natasha paused, struggling to find the right words.

“I won’t be a stranger,” Maggie said, turning she embraced the other woman.

“I’m going to miss having dinner with you,” Natasha answered, returning the hug.

“We’ll have to set up a monthly dinner date.” She replied as they stepped apart.

“That sounds good.” Natasha nodded, clearing her throat. “Are you going to need any help loading up your stuff?”

“No. I should be fine. Not taking any of the big stuff this trip. Just some of the essentials.”

“Good. That’s good. We’ll take care of your stuff until you’re ready for it.”

“Thank you, Natasha.”

There was a pause, and Maggie watched as Natasha tried to figure out what she wanted to say. “I’ll see you around then, Ramirez.”

“See you around, Natasha.”

She watched as Natasha turned and walked from the office, her gaze following her as she walked out the front door, closing it behind her.

Maggie exhaled a long breath. _I should stay. I should stay and help her find Clint. I should stay until the house is built and convince her and Steve to come with me then, it would be easier because there would be an actual place to stay rather than camping out._

She’d been through this argument with herself, over and over, and over the last twenty-one days. But she always came to the same conclusion. If she didn’t leave now, then she would find another reason not to go later. It was what had happened after Riley died, and now she risked doing the same thing again.

She couldn’t atrophy, couldn’t talk herself out of this.

_What you’re doing is important; keep going._

Downing her coffee, Maggie jumped in the shower, still thinking about her interaction with Natasha.

It felt selfish, somehow, leaving when they were clearly in so much pain.

_But I’m trying. I’m trying to help them, trying to give them an out, trying to extend an opportunity for them to get out of their funk, but they won’t take me up on it._

Was this how Sam had felt after Riley had died? God, Maggie wished that she could talk to Sam right about now, if for no other reason than to hear him say, ‘yup, I told you so.’ She was sure both Sam and Riley would have a lot say about her present circumstances, and she could only imagine the ass-chewing that Bucky would be giving Steve and Nat right about now.

_If they were here, this wouldn’t even be a conversation._

Getting out of the shower and drying off, she braided her hair and pulled on the outfit she’d left out for herself: A pair of jeans, a long-sleeved button-down shirt which she rolled to cuffs at her elbows, a thick pair of wool socks, her Wakandan leather boots, and one of Bucky’s scarves. Standing in front of the mirror, she tied the blue-green scarf around her like a sash, and then pinned her hair up around her head, before securing the end with her floral comb.

It felt silly to be fussing with her appearance, but she was going to be meeting with one of her old friends, who also happened to think she was dead, _and_ she was signing legal paperwork. In the given circumstances, she’d do what she could to look her absolute best. In some small way, it was also comforting to be dressed in something familiar, both old and new, a testament to what she’d been through and a reminder of where she’d been.

Collecting her duffle and satchel, which both lay on the tidy, regulation made bed, Maggie walked out of the bedroom, shutting off the lights behind her.

Walking out to the living room, she stopped as she found Steve sitting on the couch, head down, typing something into his cellphone.

Maggie didn’t say anything a moment, waiting patiently for him to finish his message and meet her gaze. “Hey.” She said softly as he looked at her, making eye contact.

“Ramirez, hey. Hi.” He stammered, putting away his phone and standing up. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I didn’t think I was going to get to see you before I left,” Maggie admitted, sheepishly. “We…uhh seem to have missed one another a lot over the past few weeks.”

“Yeah.” There was a long pause as neither of them spoke.

Maggie wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, or rather what should be said. There was nothing more that Maggie could say that she hadn’t said before. She’d asked him several more times after that first conversation if he would go with her back to the ranch, and he’d politely but firmly declined. Yet, he had also been adamant that she should go back.

 _Is it me? Does he not want me around?_ Maggie felt like she _should_ ask, but had yet to gain the courage to do so.

“Do you have everything you need?” Steve asked uncertainly.

“For this first trip, yeah.”

“Right. You’re not taking everything with you.” He nodded, glancing around. “It’ll be strange to not have you around here anymore.”

“It will be strange.” Maggie nodded. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to leave.” She chuckled, looking around the room. Everything was covered with dust covers. All of her possessions were packed away in boxes and stacked against the wall, labeled with meticulous detail. 

“I’m happy for you. Glad you get a chance to go back to the ranch. Sam always told me how much that place meant to the both of you.” Steve said, even managing to say Sam’s name without choking on it for the first time since the Battle of Wakanda.

“I’m going to miss you.” Maggie started slowly after a prolonged pause. “Going to miss both you and Natasha.” She took in a breath, but Steve cut her off before she could proceed.

“I know you want us to go with you,” Steve rushed out.

“I know, Steve.” Maggie cut back in. “You don’t have to explain.” She took a step toward him, closing the space between them. “Everyone has to find their own way. I guess my only wish is that we were traveling together, at least for a stretch, rather than traveling that path separately.”

Steve nodded. “You’ll always have a place here.”

“And you’ll always have a place with me.”

There was another long pause as they both tried to figure out what to say next. “Oh.” Steve continued, removing something from his pocket and extending it to her with his fist closed around it.

Maggie hesitantly stuck her hand out, and Steve dropped a wad of neatly rolled bills into her hand totaling. Mouth open, she looked between him and the roll, which totaled something close to a couple of thousand dollars.

“For incidentals,” Steve said, filling in her gaping silence.

“I can-”

“You can and you will, Ramirez.” He answered, stepping back. “Just don’t spend it all in one place.” He added with a low chuckle.

Maggie knew there was no arguing with him. So she nodded and stuffed the roll of bills into her satchel. “Thank you, Steve. For everything.”

“Of course.” He paused, patting his pocket again, he removed a slip of paper, and extended it to her. “My number.” He explained when she gave him a look.

“Ah. Today must be my lucky day. I got you and Natasha’s phone numbers.” She chuckled, folding the slip and likewise sticking it into her bag for safekeeping. “I’ll have to put you both in a group chat so we can talk.” She smiled, “just like old times.”

“Close enough,” Steve said with a sad smile. But before she could say anything in response, he continued, “What do you need help loading up in your vehicle?”

“I was going to try to get the panels of a prefabricated greenhouse into the back of the truck, but otherwise, I’ve been moving stuff in there for a couple of days now, and the only thing left is this duffle,” Maggie answered.

“Would you like my help?”

“Very much.”

“Then lead the way, Ramirez.”

They walked in silence to the garage where Maggie had started packing up the 1995 Ford F-150 that she’d bought off Stark and was going to use as her vehicle until she could justify buying something more updated.

In the days prior, she’d also purchased a greenhouse off of Stark and had acquired seeds to start seedlings since it was far too late in the season to plant a garden from scratch. She’d have the winter to germinate her starter crop and be able to go from there.

While she’d managed to the pieces of the greenhouse to the truck, they were big and bulky, and she hadn’t quite been able to get them up into the bed of the truck.

Steve lifted and secured them in the truck bed with ease, while she placed her satchel on the passenger’s seat next to Riley’s flag, which she’d found when they were cleaning out Sam’s room, and her duffle on the floorboard next to her backpack sleeping bag. Then, after loading up an assortment of other supplies (both survival and farming), she and Steve stood there in awkward silence a moment, trying to find a way to stretch out the moment before inevitably she hit the road.

“Let us know when you get settled. We’ll be around if you need us.” Steve said, finally.

“I will.” Maggie nodded. Then, without waiting for permission or invitation, she pulled Steve into a hug, holding him tight as her chest constricted and a lump formed in her throat.

She’d known this was going to be the hard part, the last real hurdle to actually making herself leave the compound.

_I could always stay, unpack the truck, and go back upstairs. I could help Natasha look for Clint. I could stay and try to help them move on._

But Maggie knew that she would regret it, maybe not tomorrow, or the next day, but one day she would wake up and realize that she should’ve at least given it a shot, should have at least _tried._

Pulling away after a moment, they both nodded, and exchanged another round of goodbyes before Maggie got into the truck, inserted the key into the ignition, and turned the engine over.

That was the hardest part. 

Driving from the garage, she kept her eyes set forward, her jaw grit in determination, even as her lip trembled.

_I didn’t imagine I’d be going back like this._

The fact remained, though. She was returning to Last Chance. There was no turning back now.

Maggie rode in silence, her mind focused on the road, and the route, which she’d memorized back when she was searching for Bucky. But she still had the directions marked out on an old map tucked between the seats, just in case she got turned around.

So it was just her and her thoughts, and the wind whistling through the open window, catching the fine baby hairs that had escaped from her braid and the combs. She thrummed her fingers on the steering wheel, the only outlet for her nervous energy as her anxiety about the goodbyes at the compound transformed into anxiety about returning to the ranch and confronting someone who thought she was dead. Confronting what the last four years, and her absence, had done to the place and the people she held so near and dear to her.

Still, terrified as she was, anxious as she felt, Maggie knew she couldn’t turn from the path she was going down.

Then, miraculously, just before anxiety could devour her whole from the inside out, Maggie arrived on an old familiar road and turned down a gravel drive that she would know anywhere, the gates of Last Chance Ranch opened wide, waiting for her return.

She remembered every bump and turn of the drive that would lead her to the barn. Her eyes scanned the tree line and the gaping hole where the profile of the old house should have been. Yet, aside from that, nothing else it seemed had changed.

Yet everything had.

She drove up to the barn and outbuilding and smiled. Everything was where she remembered it, even if it was a bit overgrown.

Throwing the truck into park and killing the engines, Maggie stepped out into the muggy air, taking in a deep breath. It was cloudy, and the smells of damp earth, hay, manure, and animals hung heavy in the air, grounding her as she breathed.

Maggie could remember riding over the gently rolling hills of Wakanda to get to work in the morning, the dew still clinging to the long grass of the Wakandan plains. The smell of dirt and grass, fresh and vibrant, and present. It hadn’t been that long ago really, but it felt like an eternity since that last day when she’d ridden off to work thinking that she and Bucky were going to spend a quiet evening in.

_How quickly life could change._

Maggie glanced around at the barn, outbuilding, and assorted buildings and enclosures beyond. _How quickly life did change._

She could remember the first time she, Riley, and Sam had laid eyes on the place.

She and Riley had been newlyweds, wide-eyed and full of hope and ambition for what the future held in store for them, the three of them, together.

The house and the barn had both needed massive renovations, but they’d quickly drafted blueprints with everything they planned to do. They’d decided they wanted to do it all themselves, her, Riley, and Sam. An adventure. A team-building project, or so Riley had called it. Then...well, life had happened.

Maggie glanced up to where the house should’ve loomed over them on the hill. _They really burned it to the ground._

Maggie brought her left wrist up and clutched it to her chest with her right hand, her fingers fiddling with the clasp of the bracelet Bucky had given her.

She could still remember the smoke, and pain, and absolute anger and borderline hatred she’d felt when she’d been tied to the chair in her burning house. Maggie also remembered that there had been a sense of relief that maybe it was all over, that she was going to die, and she wouldn’t have to worry about any of it, ever again.

Only she hadn’t died. She’d lived. She’d lived through nearly being burned alive in a house fire. She’d lived through sneaking across the border and being shot by Cartels in Juarez. She’d survived the apocalypse at the hands of an extraterrestrial. She’d survived losing so many friends and loved ones. Yet, somehow she was still here, still alive and still fighting on.

Maggie shook her head, glancing around. The outbuilding, the windmill, the woodshed, the smokehouse, and the barn, they were all there. The house was gone, but a lot of other things, a lot of the essential things had survived. From this, she would make a fresh start. From here, she would make an Eden, for herself, and for anyone else who might need a hand. She would pull them up if they were drowning. She would make the most out of this gift, the opportunity.

 _You’re getting another chance, another Last Chance._ She chuckled to herself at the thought.

Maggie was then yanked from her thoughts by the sound of a vehicle pulling up the drive. _Suzanne’s truck._ She’d know that sound anywhere. Shit, the horses had known back in the day what Suzanne’s truck sounded like upon approach.

 _Fuck, it’s Suzanne!_ The second more present part of her brain realized. Maggie still hadn’t quite figured out what she was going to say or _how_ she was going to break the news that she was alive to one of the first people she’d met out here on the ranch. _What do I do? What do I do?_ Her mind raced.

“You must be the new owner,” Suzanne’s voice cut through the mental torrent, ripping its way through Maggie’s mind, bring reality back into sharp focus. The woman’s voice was pinched. How painful this must be for her, handing over the keys to her dead friend’s ranch. Or was it something else? Maggie didn’t know, but she knew she had to answer.

“Something like that.” She managed, turning slowly to face Suzanne who was walking up behind her.

Suzanne stopped in her tracks, her expression morphing from one of irritation and anger, to confusion, then to shock, and finally to disbelief.

“Maggie?”

“Hi, Suzanne.”

“How in the...” Suzanne couldn’t even finish it as she rushed Maggie, closing the distance between them, pulled Maggie in for a tight embrace. “It was you, on the phone.” She stammered. “I didn’t know how, but somehow I knew it was you.” Suzanne practically sobbed as they hugged. “Don’t you damn well do anything like that ever again, Magdalen Ramirez.” She said as they pulled apart, and Suzanne got a good look at her.

“I promise I won’t make a habit of it.” Maggie choked out, tears welling in her eyes.

“God, it’s good to see you.” Suzanne pulled her in for another hug.

“I’ve missed you, I’ve missed this place,” Maggie whispered, holding her friend tight. “I’m so sorry.”

Suzanne pulled back at arm’s distance, surveying her closely. “You’ve been through some shit, haven’t you?” She said slowly, holding Maggie’s face in both her hands.

Maggie nodded, stunned speechless. Everything she’d been worried about, everything she’d feared, and it had been for nothing. Suzanne had literally welcomed her back with open arms.

“ _You_ don’t have anything to apologize for. You understand me?” Suzanne continued firmly. “Jeezus, kid, you brightened what was getting ready to be a really shitty day for me.” She dropped her hands to her side.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I didn’t know how you’d react.” Maggie rushed as tears started to slip down her cheeks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come back sooner.” She stammered out.

“You made it back, kid,” Suzanne said, cutting her off before Maggie’s mind could spiral out of control completely. “You’re here now.” She paused. “I take it Wilson didn’t make it.”

Maggie shook her head, “No.” She swallowed hard. “Who made it from our group?”

“The only ones I know for sure are Mike and Bill, Mitchel, James, and Molly. Everyone else is MIA, presumed gone.”

“Steph?”

Suzanne shook her head.

“Jeezus.” Maggie breathed, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand.

“It’s been hard to get into contact with people. We really haven’t had a big get together since…” Suzanne paused, glancing her up and down. “Since just before the fire.”

Maggie nodded again.

Suzanne opened her mouth and then closed it again as if she was going to say something but thought better of it.

“What?” Maggie pushed.

Again, there was some hesitance in her expression, but she pressed on. “Matt, the man staying in your barn. That was the Winter Soldier, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” Maggie managed.

“We saw his picture on the news, and we thought, what were the chances.” Suzanne paused, surveying her a moment. “He wasn’t the one who burned the house to the ground with you it though, was he.” 

Maggie could feel her heart constrict in her chest at the notion, knowing how horrified Bucky would have been at the very idea. But Suzanne wasn’t wrong to ask. Some strange dude sleeps in your friend and colleague’s barn, and then the house goes up in a blaze, and your friend is declared dead, and the strange guy disappears. Then a few years later, that same guy’s face shows up all over the news as an international fugitive and war criminal. That would raise some red flags.

“No. he wasn’t.” She answered, “It was Hydra. They were looking for him.”

Suzanne nodded firmly, “I’d ask what the hell happened, but I get the feeling that’s a conversation for a later day after a few beers.”

“Yeah.” Maggie glanced around, her gaze focusing a moment on the outbuilding before up at the foundation where the house should’ve been. “Before he left, Bucky stopped Jack Roberts and his cronies from burning the place to the ground.” A lump formed in her throat, and she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to finish her thought. “He was a good man.”

Suzanne didn’t say anything. Whether she didn’t know what to say or was trying to give Maggie a moment to regain her composure was anyone’s guess. But after a moment, she broke the silence. “Not that I wish ill of anyone, but you’ll be pleased to know that Jack Roberts died about a year and a half after the house burned down.”

“What?” Maggie’s head reeled. It had been years since she’d given that man a second thought. Back in the day, however, he’d been the bane of her existence. How strange that somehow she’d managed to outlast that ass hole.

“Massive heart attack.”

“Well. That explains why he didn’t buy the place up when you listed it a few weeks back.” She said dryly.

“The funeral was one hell of a shit show.”

“I’m surprised you went.”

“Me, Bill, Mike and a few of the others. Can’t say there were many tears. I personally went for Senior’s Sake.”

“How many girlfriends showed up?” Maggie asked dryly.

“Can’t rightly say. Though there were a number of fights, cops were called, it was messy.”

“Jeezus Christ,” Maggie shook her head. “Good to know that sometimes people get what’s coming to them.”

She paused, her gaze wandering back around the property, the emptiness of it filling her with a deep and painful sadness, knowing that her absence here had taken its toll and the sheer amount of work she was going to have to do to both earn back the trust of the community and get this place back up and running was going to be tremendous.

“I know that look, Ramirez. It’s generally followed by, Suzanne, I have an idea I’d like to run past you.”

Maggie smiled with a chuckle. “Thinking about how much work I have to do.”

“What are you planning? Going to go back to equine therapy?”

“No. Though I would be interested in getting Shadow and Ghost back. If they’re still around.”

“Consider them yours.” Maggie opened her mouth to protest, but Suzanne charged on, “You can pay me for the feed through the winter.”

“Okay. Fair.” She conceded.

“So. Not equine therapy.”

“No.” Maggie agreed. “I’m going to get the house built. I have people coming out tomorrow to finalize some construction plans. In the meantime, I’m going to start getting this place into shape so that I can turn it into a working farm.”

Suzanne’s eyebrow shot nearly into her hairline, even as she tried to hide her surprise. “That’s _ambitious, ”_ Was all she said.

“It is. Stupidly so. But I’ve…I’ve spent some time in a herding and farming community over the past two years, and I’ve been reading about what this particular patch of land will support.” Maggie explained, “I’m not envisioning a commercial farm by any stretch of the imagination. I just know resources are scarce, and people need a reliable local source for food. They need community.”

Suzanne nodded, her weathered features more pronounced as she frowned in deep concentration. “I may have some leads for you on livestock. I’ve been trying to re-home animals for months after farmers disappeared.” She shook her head, grimly. “It’s been gristly.”

“I can only imagine.” Maggie winced.

“But first it’ll be only Ghost and Shadow, maybe a few laying hens. Does that work for you?”

“That sounds wonderful,” She smiled

“I’m sure I can even get a coop set up for you too.” Suzanne paused. “Jeezus, we just picked up where we left off, didn’t we?”

“I do believe we did.”

“And you’re going to live on property while the house is being built?”

“That was the plan. The outbuilding still have running water?”

“When I checked for the listing a few weeks ago, it did. It’ll be the electricity you have to worry about,” Suzanne replied.

“I spoke to the electric company. I got the power turned back on, so I’ll have power in the outbuilding and the barn. I’ve brought along some spare fluorescent bulbs. I plan to get solar panels delivered with the building materials to start moving the ranch off the grid and rely upon clean, renewable energy. ”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Probably not, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out as I go.”

“And you won’t be alone.” She put her hand firmly on Maggie’s shoulder. “You know that, right kid?”

“I know,” Maggie answered.

Suzanne nodded, dropping her hand to her side, reached into her pocket and extracted a ring of keys. Extending them to her, she said, “I guess these are yours.”

“I guess they are.”

“Well, I’ll be back ‘round this evening. I have other things to check in on, but I’ll be back later to see if you need anything. We can talk about the horses and other livestock after you’ve had a chance to settle in.”

“That sounds like a good plan. Thank you, Suzanne. I owe you.” Maggie said, fiddling with the key ring.

“Nah. Just doin’ my part.” She paused, “If you don’t mind, I might put the word out on the wire that you’re back. I know people need good news, and you’re about as good as it gets presently.”

“Damn, times must be bad.” Maggie drawled.

“End of days or so I’m told.”

“So really scraping the bottom of the barrel, huh?”

Suzanne rolled her eyes, “Just take the damn compliment.”

“Never.”

“You’re still a mess, Ramirez.”

“I don’t think anything could change that.”

“I’ll see you later then.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Maggie waved Suzanne off before she turned to the barn door. Selecting the correct key from the ring, Maggie slid it into the well-oiled lock and opened the door.

“Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen!” She announced as she flicked on the lights, the florescent bulbs flickering a moment before illuminating the dark cavernous space of the barn.

For a moment Maggie almost half expected to hear the rusting and breathing of large bodies as she pushed open the large sliding door. Instead, there was nothing but a deafening silence.

She walked down the aisle, glancing into each of the stalls, like one of her herd would be standing inside, waiting for their daily portion of oats and sweet mix, though why they’d be inside at this time of day, Maggie didn’t know. 

Instead, all she found was swept and dry floors, which only amplified the loneliness of the quiet, empty space.

Maggie stopped outside of stall ten and peered through the bars of the door. Was she expecting him to be there, in that back corner, watching her with those sharp blue eyes? Maggie didn’t know, but she could remember the first time she’d walked into the barn and found him there, half-conscious, starved, and frightened. The way he’d sized her up, there had been a half-second when she was almost positive he was going to try to lunge at her.

Only he hadn’t. Instead, only a few hours later, he’d intervened when Jack Roberts had grabbed her arm with the serious intent to do her harm.

What a precarious world she’d walked in. How strange to think that both of them, Roberts and Bucky, were gone.

Maggie glanced down at that corner where he’d watched her, calculating and planning, cogwheels working some strange arithmetic just behind his eyes, even as he’d been battling withdrawal symptoms.

 _What had he seen?_ She couldn’t help but wonder. Sliding open the stall door, she stepped foot inside, proceeding to the back corner, she sat down, her back to the wall, her eyes on the open doorway. Drawing her knees to her chest, she sat there in the quiet stillness.

This was where it all began.

_And he and Sam will never know that I made it back and get to start over and try again._

The thought hit her in the chest, sucking her breath away, and bringing hot, stinging tears to her eyes. _Fuck._ She’d done her best not to think about that, tried not to think about the thousands of choices that had led to this moment. Including her first choice to not call the cops, but instead to render aid to someone who was more a danger to himself than anyone else.

_Was it worth it?_

Bucky had asked her during one of the first _real_ conversations they’d had in Wakanda, standing out under the vast Wakanda skies. She hadn’t had an answer for him then, and if he was here now, Maggie still wasn’t sure if she’d have an answer, but she _knew_ what she wanted the answer to be. She wanted the answer to be yes. Yes, her decision had been worth every ounce of heartache and pain and suffering she’d experienced.

Was that just wishful thinking? Maggie didn’t know quite yet. She’d have to wait and see what became of her, and all the former and even future denizens of Last Chance Ranch. Still, with all her heart, she wished Sam and Bucky where here, not just to help her get this vanity project off the ground, but to see that she _could_ get this vanity project off the ground.

She sniffled, wiping her face, tilted her head up toward the ceiling. The _roof_ , Bucky’s roof. He would be the reason she had a warm, dry place to stay while she built the house. His kindness and compassion would keep her safe until she could rebuild. All because he’d made a choice to be kind when he’d been going through so much at the time.

He never could’ve known what it would mean, four years later. She _never_ would’ve known if she hadn’t lived through the house fire.

_What you’re doing is important. Keep going._

Maggie rose on shaking legs and wiped her face with her hands. Exiting the stall and closing the door behind her, Maggie went to the loft ladder and climbed up.

Stepping onto the platform, she went to one of the many support beams holding the structure together. Pausing, she brushed her fingers over a set of jagged initials. S.W., R.U. & M.R, together, frozen in time inside a heart. She sighed at the memory, a smile tugging at the hard corners of her mouth, even as her eyes, still damp from before, threatened to produce more tears.

“Well, I’m back. Let’s see if I can make things right this time. Huh, boys?” She murmured. “Let’s see if I can’t get this place up and running.”

Removing her hand from the beam, and tearing her eyes away from the carving, Maggie surveyed the roof closely, looking for leaks or places to patch. Yet, She found it both well insulated and in good repair both from the work Bucky had done, as well as subsequent repair work that had been conducted since she’d been gone. “God bless you, Suzanne.” Maggie breathed, feeling both relief and gratitude in equal shares. It was one less thing she would have to worry about in the immediacy.

She paused at the sound of an approaching vehicle coming up the driveway, and Maggie strained to hear who’s vehicle it might be. _That’s not Suzanne. And it doesn’t sound like Bill or Mike’s truck, so who the hell is it?_

Climbing carefully down the ladder, she rushed from the barn, just in time to see Bill get out of a car. He stopped when he spotted her, surveying her with a careful eye. Like Suzanne, a myriad of emotions crossed his expression, but more controlled, subdued just under the surface.

Was he angry with her? Upset? Sure there was plenty of reason to be. She’d be pretty damn mad if someone she cared about had faked their death and now just expected to be welcomed back. “Hi, Bill.” She said, her voice small and squeaky as she braced for the absolute worst.

“Ramirez.” He nodded after a moment. “Good to see you, kid.”

“You too.”

There was a long pause. “Come on, kid, I’m not going to bite, and you damn well owe me a hug.”

She exhaled a sharp, shaking breath and crossed the yard, throwing her arms around him. “I’m so glad to see you, Bill.”

“Suzanne called me, near tears. I had to know if it was true.” He answered.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I left all of you like that. I would never have...” She stammered, tears coming fast.

“Hey. Hey now. You made it back. You’re back now.” Bill said gently. “That’s all that matters.”

Maggie let go and glanced up, examining his expression. He was older, grayer, and more careworn. There was a sadness set into his features that hadn’t been there before, but not an ounce of anger or resentment. “It’s good to see you, Bill.”

“Good to see you too, kid.” He said, patting her shoulder as she wiped at her eyes.

“Good to be seen.”

“I’ll bet.” He nodded, glancing around expectantly. “So, what’s the plan, boss?”

“Plan?”

“Yeah, Suzanne said something about you wanting to start a farm out here.”

“A commune.” Maggie blurted out.

“A commune? As in free love to repopulate the earth? You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, kiddo. Spirit willing, but...the hell you need animals for in that case?” Bill chuckled with a wink.

“Jeezus christ, you and Samuel Wilson, I swear.” Maggie rolled her eyes. “A farm for the community.”

“Makes more sense, but far less fun,” Bill said deadpan.

Then something inside of her broke like a dam, and she started to laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and she laughed so hard that she couldn’t breathe, and she sat down on the ground. After a moment, Bill started laughing as well and joined her on the ground, and they just sat there together, and belly laughed for no particular rhyme or reason whatsoever.

“Something I should know about you two?” They both looked up to see Mike standing over them. 

“Mike?” Maggie stammered as she wiped at the tears of laughter streaming down her face.

“Ramirez.”

“Suzanne got to you too?”

“This one did actually,” Mike said, offering Bill a hand to pull the older man to his feet.

“Well. Aren’t you and Suzanne just a couple ol’ gossips.” Maggie grinned as she rose and brushed herself off. “At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole population of New York State rolled up with the way you two get on.”

“We gotta have something to talk about,” Bill replied.

“So, what do you got for us, boss?” Mike asked after a brief pause.

“Jeezus, can I give you a hug first?” Maggie asked.

“Absolutely.”

She and Mike exchanged a brief hug. “It’s a trip seeing you, Ramirez.” He commented as they separated.

“All things considered, it’s been a wild ride. I’ll have to tell y’all some time.” She replied.

“You will.” Bill agreed. “But the man’s right. What do you got for us? There’s always something.”

“Christ, you two, I have literally been here maybe a half an hour, maybe an hour tops. I swear Suzanne said she’d let me get my feet under me.”

“She might have, but we know you, Ramirez, you have plans, and it’ll require some of our engineering and technical expertise,” Bill commented.

Maggie chewed on her bottom lip, thinking through her plans. “Okay. Two main points of concern. The water pump and heat if the new construction takes longer than expected. Fortunately, one is less pressing than the other.”

“New construction?” Mike echoed, as he and Bill exchanged glances before they both turned and looked up at where the old house had once been.

“I‘ve put a large down payment for getting the new house built. Construction companies aren’t exactly being employed at the moment, so they were happy to oblige.” She explained slowly. Again, Mike and Bill exchanged looks. “What? You two?”

“Look at you. You came back from the dead prepared.” Bill chuckled.

“I had a little bit of time on my hands,” Maggie answered wryly.

“I’ll bet.” Mike paused, glancing at Bill.

Something dark had settled on the older man’s face, something that Maggie couldn’t quite put a name too, but she could hear it in what he said next. “Suzanne said it wasn’t The Winter Soldier who burned down the house. Did he do that?” Bill asked bluntly, motioning to her wrist.

“Bill,” Mike warned.

There. Maggie could hear it now, the anger and pain that had slipped out for just a moment, and it took everything she had not to flinch. But she knew why they were angry. She’d been away for four years, through no fault of her own or anyone else’s for that matter, but the most convenient target was a man she’d stuck her neck out for, and who had disappeared at the same time she had. She could only imagine how difficult that had been for all of them to bear—specifically, Bill, who had warned her that Bucky was dangerous.

“No,” She answered firmly, raising her left wrist to her right hand, clutching it to her chest. “James Barnes never raised a hand to hurt me.”

Maggie wanted to tell them everything, but where to start? How could she possibly convey to them that the man they’d thought had murdered her had, in fact, helped her, saved her, loved her, and that she’d loved him too? She couldn’t. Not yet. Not when she still had so many wounds to heal, wounds that had been seared into all of their hearts and souls because of her over four years ago.

“We all made choices. But I’m here now, to try and make it right.” It was the best she could do. What else could she possibly say in the given circumstances?

Bill nodded firmly, “So what do you have for us, boss?”

And just like that, he was going to drop it. Yet, Maggie knew it wasn’t over. It couldn’t be over. “I have a greenhouse in the back of the truck, and a generator to hook up to the windmill to produce and store electricity.”

“I’ll grab my toolbox. You know where you’re going to place this greenhouse of yours?”

“I have an idea.”

“Mike, you wanna help her get the panels out of the back? Ramirez, you can show him where you want to place the thing.”

“Sure thing Bill.” Mike nodded, glancing at Maggie, “Lead the way, boss.”

Maggie said nothing motioning for him to follow her over to the truck. She climbed up on the back tire to get at the straps, avoiding Mike’s watchful gaze.

“Don’t listen to the old man,” Mike said shortly as they untied the straps securing the panels. “He was just looking for someone to be angry at.”

“He should be angry at me. You all should be.”

Mike paused, his hands stopping in their motion, his eyes watching her with their quiet, mindfulness. “I don’t take it that you enjoyed what happened to you, the house, or the ranch.”

“No,” Maggie shook her head. 

“I can imagine how angry you were, that you couldn’t come back or tell us that you were alive,” Mike continued.

“Yeah. I was.” She nodded.

“You don’t need our anger. You’re already angry at yourself for stuff you couldn’t help. And you’re here to make it right, _that_ ’s what matters.”

“Choice.” She murmured.

“Choice,” He agreed. There was a paused as he let Maggie absorb this a moment before he continued. “Now, let’s get this greenhouse unloaded and set up, so we can start this commune of yours.”

“Community Farm. It’s a community farm.” She shook her head as they untied the straps.

Sliding the first panel from the truck bed, Mike took it, walking past the barn and out of sight, leaving Maggie to offload the next one so it would be ready for him to take over to where they were going to set up the greenhouse.

Struggling to get a good grip, she managed to get the second panel off the truck, panting and swearing.

“Do you need help, Ramirez?”

Maggie stopped, staggering around to see none other than James Baker standing a few feet behind her at the back of the truck. “I. Uh. Hi Lieutenant Baker,” She stammered.

“Ma’am.” He replied, his expression reserved as he surveyed her. Beside him stood Molly, who was now ten years old, wearing large round glasses, her hair was parted into two large poofy sections down the middle, and was clutching the strap of her satchel, watching her carefully.

“Molly. It’s so good to see you. You’ve gotten so big since the last time I saw you.” Maggie said breathlessly, glancing between the girl and her father.

“We heard the dead had been raised from the grave, thought we should come take a look,” James said by way of an explanation.

Maggie nodded, glancing at Molly as she tugged at her dad’s shirt. James stepped in front of molly, obscuring the girl from her line of sight. There were some exchanged whispers before James stepped away. Molly nodded at Maggie, eyeing her with near suspicion before walking over to where Bill was setting out his tool bag at the picnic bench.

James watched until Molly was out of earshot before he spoke again. “She’s been quiet like that since Steph,” James explained, his voice seizing around his wife’s name. “I’m pretty sure she remembers you, it’s just…she took it hard when you _died._ All of us did.”

“I’m sorry, James.” She said slowly.

“I know. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t sorry.” He replied, looking her over. “How you been?”

“Surviving. You?”

“Same.” James paused, glancing around. “Don’t think I realized just how much I missed this place, and missed you until what happened, happened back in May.” He shook his head. “We missed you, Ramirez.”

“I missed all of you, too.”

James nodded. “Suzanne said something about you wanting to start a farm?” He continued uncertainly.

“A community farm. Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“Not sure how much help a one-armed Veteran can be, but let me know how I can help. I’d like to be involved. I think it would be good for Molly to get outside more frequently. This single parenting thing is hard.”

“I’d be happy to have you both here. And for the record, you’d be surprised how much a one-armed veteran farmer can do.”

“Now that sounds like the set up to either a really bad joke, or a really good story,” James said dryly.

“A little bit of both, I think.” She answered. “I’ll have to tell y’all some time.” Where those tears in her voice? She couldn’t quite say. She’d been so weepy recently she wouldn’t be surprised if there were.

“You’ve been through the shit, haven’t you?” He commented after a moment.

Maggie nodded firmly, unsure of what she could say in the given circumstances.

“When you’re ready, you’ll have to tell us all about it.” He said, patting her on the back. “Now. Do you want help with those other panels or not?”

“Right. That.” Maggie cleared her throat. “If you wanna help me manhandle this one over to where Mike is setting up the greenhouse, that might be a better use of our efforts,” Maggie answered.

“Sounds good,” He agreed.

They walked the panel over to where Mike had set the first one, before returning to the truck to continue the process. They did this several more times until all the panels were unloaded and they stood back, chest heaving, to watch Mike as he attempted to start the assembly process, while also doing his best to shoo Bill away as the older man ‘supervised.’ 

Their gazes were then drawn to the sound of an approaching vehicle, and excited shouts and exclamations. Walking back around the barn, they found a van load of people had arrived and were unfolding themselves from the interior of the vehicle and pulling out tools and building materials from the hatchback. Former clients and volunteers got out and rushed toward her, enveloping her in hugs and unspoken prayers of thanksgiving and joy. Johnny showed up an hour later with a cooler filled to the brim with bottled water and carbonated non-alcoholic beverages. Mitchel arrived a little while on with even more tools and building supplies and a charcoal grill. Bill, it seemed, was directing everyone, who were moving in and out of the barn, giving mike a hand with the greenhouse, taking measurements for shelves and work tables for inside the future plant nursery. People were organizing the woodshed and cleaning out the smokehouse. Bridget chatted excitedly with Elizabeth about the possibility of beekeeping, while Johnny and Mike talked about how to graft fruit trees onto the trees already established around the property. All the while, talking and laughter filled the air.

At length, Suzanne showed up with stuff for grilling, and James and Mike took over food prep.

“Suzanne. What the hell?” Maggie asked as the woman walked up beside her, handing her a bottle of coke.

“I might have mentioned that you wanted to start a farm. Apparently, the community thought that was a great idea.”

“So I see. Jeezus.” Maggie shook her head.

“I can tell them to pack up and leave if you’d like,” Suzanne replied dryly.

“No, it’s not that, it’s just. I just thought. I mean, I wasn’t sure that anyone would want to see me after everything. I thought that I would have to, that I’d have to, yanno…” Maggie stammered, unable to put her racing thoughts into words.

“That you’d have to do it alone?” Suzanne asked dryly.

“Well...I mean...yes?”

“You aren’t alone, and you don’t have to do this alone,” Suzanne replied, patting Maggie on the back before she joined the group industriously working to hook up a turbine to the windmill.

Maggie nodded, taking it all in. She wished Natasha and Steve were here to see this. She wished Sam could see this, the ranch back up and running again. He would love it. He would be right in the middle of the whole thing. Maggie paused as she put her right hand to her left, fingers fiddling with the vibranium band around her wrist. Her chest constricted, her throat feeling tight, tears ready to overwhelm her already overloaded system. She wished Bucky was here to see this. He’d always felt guilty about what had happened to her and the house, and of course, guilty about the lives that he’d destroyed by leading Hydra onto her property. Only he hadn’t. Perhaps in a strange sort of way, he’d saved them. He above all, should be here to see what she was getting ready to built, and the community that was still waiting here for her.

“You all right there, Ramirez?” Bill asked, coming up beside her.

“Is anyone okay at this point?” Maggie replied skeptically.

“Point taken. I just meant with all of this.” He said, glancing around.

“I couldn’t imagine a better homecoming. In the given circumstances.”

“You deserve it, kiddo.” Bill paused, glancing over his shoulder at the foundation for the old house. “So you’re really going to rebuild that house, huh?”

“That’s the plan.”

Bill nodded, glancing around, taking in the scene around them. Maggie could still feel the tension, the unspoken words, the resentment that was building, and swelling in the man’s chest. And she deserved it. Maggie _knew_ she deserved it. She also knew she didn’t deserve the kindness and grace, and warm acceptance from the people she’d left for four years, who’d thought she was _dead_ for four years. Bill was angry, and he had every right to be.

“Look.” He began after a moment, “About earlier.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“Maggie, I was out of line. I had no right to say that.” He paused, shaking his head. “We thought you were dead, kid, and we all thought he’d done it.” Bill’s voice shook as he spoke, his head down, eyes focused on the ground. “It was hard to swallow. That someone would do that after what you’d done for him.”

“You have a right to be angry, Bill. I was gone for four years. You thought I was _dead_ for four years. And maybe I’ll get a chance to fill you in on all the details of what happened and why I had to stay gone for so long. But the fact of the matter is, what you felt, the pain, the grief, the anger, all of it, it was real, and it meant something, and that doesn’t just go away just because I’ve shown back up.” She said, firmly. “As much as I wish I could say that I’m here to make it all better, I can’t. I don’t expect that we can just pick everything back up where we left off.” Maggie took a deep breath. “But the world is fucked three ways to Sunday, and if I can make it better for some of the people nearest and dearest to me, then I’m going to do my best.”

“And that’s why you’re one of the good ones, Maggie,” Bill said.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you had a chunk of change and decided to drop it on this place rather than starting somewhere else, somewhere new. We never would’ve known had you not just shown up this afternoon. Which is why I could never find it in myself to be angry at you.”

Maggie nodded, swallowing hard, “I would’ve known. I _knew,_ and it made me so sick I _did_ wish I was dead there for a bit.”

“All that matters is that your back. We’re glad to see you, and I think a lot of us are excited to get started on this whole _commune_ thing, even if there is less free love than previously indicated.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “If it comes to that Bill, I’m putting you in charge of figuring the logistics out on that side of things.”

Bill grinned, with a nod, patting her on the back, “Come on, kid. Let’s get back. You’re missing your own party.”

“So I am.” She agreed, and they returned to the fray.

So she was back, and no one questioned why or how or the means through which she was back, only that she’d returned. It was almost more than Maggie could bear, and it was definitely more than she felt she deserved. Yet, she couldn’t help but revel in the light, and love, and pure energy being poured back into her life, back into a place she’d once called home, and would hopefully get to call home again very soon.

The volunteers and former patients of Last Chance conversed and partied until nearly 11:00 pm, and Suzanne Bill and Mike didn’t leave until almost 11:45 pm after they’d made sure Maggie was settled in with everything she’d need for the night.

It was only then after the ranch had settled into a stillness that Maggie climbed out on the barn roof to look up into the starry night sky. It had been years since she’d looked upon this particular set of stars, but they were familiar, welcoming her home. Pulling out her cell phone, she found several missed texts and calls from both Steve and Natasha.

“Shit.” She muttered, quickly typing out the message to the group chat she’d started with Natasha and Steve.

‘I made it, got a bit distracted while settling. Sorry, I missed your calls/messages, we’ll talk in the morning!’ Hitting send, and making sure the message had actually sent, Maggie stowed her phone away.

Tilting her head back up toward the sky, she lay her back flat against the roof, her right hand fiddling with the clasp of the bracelet on her left. It was amazing to her that even though it was over four years old, the wound still stung and twinged. With all the physical therapy and the Wakandan bracelet, it still wasn’t the way it had been before Hydra had taken a rolling pin to it.

_Ain’t that the way it goes, though?_

Today Maggie had borne witness to the multiple ways old wounds still twinged. She’d witnessed everyone who’d shown up to welcome her back were all carrying wounds old and new, some of them she’d inflicted herself with her disappearance and extended absence.

So she would work to heal the wounds and the hurt she’d caused through her absence, but she would also work to mend the holes and scars incurred by what had collectively happened to all of them, the disappearance of half the world, half the universe. Maggie just had to hope that one day it wouldn’t hurt so bad. It just hurt like hell now.

Maggie removed her phone as she felt it buzz, and found Steve and Natasha had both texted, “Thnxs,” from Natasha and “10-4” from Steve.

Smiling to herself, she glanced at the time. 12:15 AM

It had been 80 days since the end of the world, but it was also now the first day of a new world. One that she was going to build here, with her friends, from literally the ground up. Coming back had been the easy part. The hard part would be making all of these plans of her’s work.

Fortunately, she wasn’t going to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave you over a week to settle in from the last round of feels, and I hope that this chapter gave you a whole new batch. So how’s that for a reunion? The gang’s mostly all here! It was a pleasure to get to write the cast of characters from Pt. 1 again and I hope enjoyed meeting them again! We’re going to do a little time jump between now and next chapter, but it’ll be fun! I can’t wait to share everything I have planned for y’all! Can’t wait to hear what you think. Until next time, Happy reading!


	3. If Only In Our Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> Recommended Listening: Feliz Navidad by Jose Feliciano; When you Wish Upon A Star by The Swingfield Big Band; Ava Maria Morales by Marty Robbins; I’ll be home for Christmas (If Only In My Dreams) by Frank Sinatra.
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=mTJzX-kaRXW_kMBwio7eNA

Natasha drove in silence, snow falling gently outside the car window and turning to slush on the well-salted and plowed roads. She had driven on worse but was focused on following the directions Ramirez had given her to Last Chance Ranch. Ramirez had been asking her to come out virtually since she’d left the compound, and now almost a two and a half years later, it was the Monday before Christmas.

She had been avoiding going to the ranch since Ramirez had left, but even Natasha could admit it was more than just her commitment to keeping what remained of the Avengers running. She wasn’t sure she was ready to admit to herself that Ramirez had been able to move on, while she just hadn’t.

_I’m trying to find a way to fix what happened._

Sure, that was her excuse for focusing on her work, on keeping the avengers going, on still trying to track down Clint, but it had been a lot easier to justify when it had been three months after the battle of Wakanda. It had been two and a half years since they’d lost _everything,_ since _she’d_ lost everyone, but Natasha still wasn’t ready to admit defeat. She wasn’t sure what that would do to her.

For the first two years after her departure, Ramirez made it a point to schedule dinner with her once a month at the compound. Once her farm had started producing crops, she’d show up and make dinner at the compound, all with fresh produce. They’d chat. Well, Natasha was willing to concede, Ramirez listened to her talk, and would occasionally interject a comment or a suggestion, particularly when it came to trying to figure out where Clint was.

In addition to the produce, Ramirez also brought pictures of the farm and would spend some of their evenings talking about what improvements she was making, how many animals they had, what their crop yield was, and any sort of news about her volunteers.

It was always good to see Ramirez, and after Steve’s departure from the compound shortly after Ramirez had made her exit, the dinner had quickly become the highlight of Natasha’s month.

Then six months ago, Ramirez had texted her the week before their regular dinner date to cancel. Since then, Ramirez hadn’t been able to make a single one of their dinner’s, though she had invited Natasha out to the Ranch on a nearly weekly basis.

About two weeks ago, Ramirez had invited her and Steve up to the ranch to celebrate the first day of Hanukkah with the Martinez-Proctor clan. Natasha had declined, which Ramirez, of course, said she understood, but then Natasha had gotten a text to the group chat, ‘Missed y’all at dinner. Thinking of you both, Happy Hanukkah.’

The text was accompanied by a group photo from the party. Some of the faces, Natasha recognized, both from previous photos of volunteers and friends out on the ranch and the previous gatherings of the Martinez-Proctor’s. But other faces were new, namely, the beautiful black woman, with a large afro holding hands with Ramirez, and the assortment of racially diverse children and teens standing around them.

That had certainly piqued Natasha’s curiosity, but after a few rounds of opaque texts, she had managed to get zero answers from Ramirez. Then, a few days ago, when Ramirez had texted to invite her out to the house for Tamales, Natasha knew that she’d have to make a trip out to get answers from the woman.

Plus, Natasha wasn’t about to say no to Ramirez’s tamales.

Pulling up the drive, Natasha was surprised to see the house lit up with multi-color lights, hardly the gloomy picture she’d formed in her head for whatever reason. Reaching the cluster of outbuildings (including the barn) and a row of vehicles, Natasha parked her car at the end of the row. Stepping out, Natasha glanced around, listening for signs of where everyone else was, or for any sign of life at all for that matter.

“You must be Natasha.”

She turned to see a stocky man wearing a knit cap, chore coat, jeans, and snow boots approach her. “Mike.” He said, and pulling off a glove, extended his hand to her.

“Natasha.” She answered, shaking the man’s hand.

“A pleasure to meet you.” Mike nodded, letting go of her hand, and returning his hand to his glove. “They’re all up at the house, Ramirez should’ve told you to use the real driveway. It would’ve put you at the front door. It must’ve slipped her mind.” He continued, answering her unasked question.

Natasha opened and closed her mouth, feeling suddenly very off-balance, an unusual feeling for someone trained to be adaptable and quick on her feet. She’d obviously been out of the world for too long.

“I was headed up that way if you wanna follow me up.” Mike offered.

“That would be fantastic.”

Mike nodded and motioned for her to follow him, and they ascended the path up toward the house. “How were the roads on your way out?”

“Not too bad.”

“That’s good. The first winter after, public utilities weren’t for shit this far out, so it could get a little hairy,” He continued.

“Makes sense.” She supplied. “I haven’t really been out much, so I wouldn’t know,” Natasha admitted.

“That’s what Ramirez said. Been trying to lure you and Rogers out here for a bit. Glad you finally made it.” 

So, Ramirez had been open about _luring_ them out here. What else had she told them? How much had she told them? Natasha wasn’t afraid to ask but also knew that now wasn’t the time or place. “Ramirez has kept me well informed about what you guys are up to out here.”

“I’m sure you know what she wants you to know. Ramirez likes to play things close to her chest.” Mike shrugged as they reached the back door, and he opened it, ushering her inside before she could formulate a response.

She stepped inside a small utility room, where there were a washer and dryer set up, rows of shoes were set along the wall, adult men to adolescent snow boots and shoes. “You’ll want to leave your boots out here to dry, don’t worry, no one is going to take yours,” Mike commented as he leaned down to untie his boots, toeing them off and leaving them in one of the neat rows.

Just beyond the door leading to the interior of the house, Natasha could hear voices, conversation, and music, and laughter on just the other side. Removing her snow boots, Natasha watched Mike watch her, aware that she was being sized up by the other man.

It wasn’t the sizing up of an enemy, or even a man checking out a woman. Instead, Natasha found that Mike was sizing her up as a _person_. What would he find? Would he find her wanting?

“You ready?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

“Brace yourself.”

Without further explanation, Mike opened the door and called, “Hey boss, Natasha made it!” as he motioned for Natasha to enter.

Stepping through the doorway, she found herself in the kitchen, a whole pack of people, mostly adolescents, rising to greet her. However, before she could make any motion of introducing herself, Natasha was immediately rushed by two large dogs,

“Sarge! Cap! Sit!” Ramirez’s voice called sharply, “SIT!” Ramirez’s voice repeated, and the massive creatures skidded to a halt, their haunches dropping to the floor while their tails continued to move wildly as they inspected the newcomer.

“Sorry about them!” Ramirez said as she emerged from the assembled group that had all risen from the table, a child on her hip. “Sarge, Cap, go lay down, Natasha doesn’t want to deal with you. Shoo.” She said, as pushed them out of the way with her free hand and hip. “Hi, Natasha.” She managed breathlessly, as they finally came face to face. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Ramirez.” She answered, locking eyes with the child watching her with large brown eyes, aware that Mike had moved around them and that everyone behind Ramirez had sat down and returned to what they were doing. Though Natasha couldn’t help but notice that they weren’t talking, and they all were watching her out of the corner of their eyes.

“You have an army of children in your kitchen,” Natasha commented dryly as she took in the whole scene, trying her best not to sound as lost as she felt.

“So I do,” Ramirez laughed, nodding as she adjusted the child on her hip. “Let me introduce you then. First, here we have Ava Maria.” She motioned with her chin to the toddler, who was still staring. “Her mother, Bianca, will be home from work soon. ”

“Oh.” Natasha let out a small breath as if she’d somehow been expecting Ramirez to admit that this was a secret love child or something. “Nice to meet you.”

Ava Maria turned her head, burring it in Ramirez’s shoulder, “She’s a little shy.” Ramirez offered, “Don’t worry; she’ll warm up to you soon enough.” Ramirez paused, watching her a moment, something danced on the woman’s expression, but before she could say anything, a gruff male voice cut through the silence.

“Well, You just gonna stand there boss, or are you gonna introduce the poor woman to all of us?”

She rolled her eyes, nodding, “Okay, Bill, okay. As the largest child in my kitchen, you get to go first.” Ramirez shot back as she turned to the assembled group.

“Bill Davidson, resident old fart and general pain in the a-” He paused, glancing around at the group of children and teens at the table, “butt.” He concluded decisively.

“All right, General Pain, who’s next?”

Around the kitchen, it went. There were James and Molly (age 12), a father-daughter duo who were working on spreading masa on corn husks. Likewise, there were two boys, Marcus (age 15) and Simon (age 13), also spreading masa, while four girls, Sara (age 13), Nadia (age 14), Jessica (age 14), and Alecia (age 17) filled the tamales with a spiced chicken mixture. At the end of the table was Diego (age 16) and Tomas (10 age), who were folding the corn husks and placing them in a large pot, which would be steamed when the next batch was ready to go in. At the stove stood Suzanne Harris, who manned the large steam pot of Tamales. While off in a far corner, Mike and Bill sat with Mitchel cutting the foil and parchment paper that would be used to wrap the finished product.

“Okay, Natasha, introduce yourself.” Ramirez nudged after everyone in the room had gone around and said their name and age (excepting the adults, of course).

“Hi. I’m Nat. It’s nice to meet you all.”

“You’re the Black Widow,” Simon said, without skipping a beat. It wasn’t a question, which surprised Natasha, and she glanced at Ramirez for guidance. Before Ramirez could open her mouth, Simon continued, “You were my sister Bethany’s favorite.”

 _Were_. Natasha couldn’t help but notice the past tense, and a deep pit opened in her stomach. “I _am_ the Black Widow, or I was. I do paperwork mostly these days,” She managed weakly.

“Maggie says you taught her to beat people up,” Sara chimed in.

Natasha glanced over at Ramirez, who shrugged but nodded in concession. “I did,” Natasha replied. “Why? Did she teach you?”

“Only for self-defense,” Sara answered, in what wasn’t quite a disparaging way, but with clear enough intent that she _had_ used the training for things other than strictly self-defense.

“Did you win?” She asked conspiratorially.

“Yeah,” Sara said with a smug smirk on her face.

There was a round of chuckles, and the mood lightened considerably before Suzanne announced that the tamales were done and they were ready for the next round.

“Pull up a chair, help us package ‘em up.” Bill waved her over.

And for the next few minutes, there was a general shuffling as Ramirez directed the flow of work and traffic, her hand in every step of the process as conversation resumed around the crowded kitchen, joking and laughter, and storytelling filling the air as she counted out a dozen tamales, and wrapped them in parchment paper and then tinfoil.

As she did, Natasha was able to get a good look at the assembled company. Some of the group she recognized as volunteers and clients from before the fire in 2014. The kids, however, were by in large a new addition, and still, there were only a couple faces that she recognized from the Hanukkah photo.

How all of this had happened, Natasha could only guess, but aside from the brief awkwardness at her arrival, everyone seemed perfectly at home and at ease with one another.

“Hey boss, are you going to play for us?” Mike called as they worked on packing away the dozens of tamales they had made in the fresh batch.

“Have my hands full here at the moment Michael,” Ramirez answered with a chuckle, Ava Maria still on her hip.

At that moment, the door opened, and a Hispanic young woman walked in, wearing business casual clothes, a light dusting of snow on her hair, her jacket tucked in her arm. “Hello, everyone!” She waved at the assembled group.

“Hey, Bianca!” They all echoed, waving back from where they were comfortably seated.

“Hey Mija, How’s my big girl,” Bianca cooed, as she turned to Ava Maria, who was doing her best to wriggle out of Ramirez’s grasp.

The girl answered in a garbled Spanglish, and Bianca nodded as she took the child from Ramirez. “How’d she do today, mama?” She asked casually.

“All right. You eaten? We’re about to finish up with making them here if you and her wanna eat.” Ramirez answered casually.

“I’ll fix her a plate, but I can wait until after she goes down. What was it that I heard about you playing something?”

“She was going to play us some Christmas songs,” Bill interjected.

“I said no such thing.” Ramirez laughed, shaking her head.

“Come on, you can’t just work us like a sweatshop in here and then _not_ give us something to listen to,” Diego cut in.

“Yeah.” Alecia chimed in, followed by others.

“Okay, okay,” Ramirez relented, “give me a second.”

“Yay!” There was a collection of cheers as she disappeared around the corner, and then returned a moment later with a guitar in hand, deftly tuning the strings.

Natasha watched, puzzled. Ramirez had tried relearning shortly after she got cleared by the physical therapist to do so, but had quickly given it up when her injuries (even post PT) had been too painful to apply pressure on the frets with her fingers.

What had changed?

Ramirez worked the frets, strumming out a few chords. Then She paused, glancing around as the whole kitchen fell quiet. “I can’t believe you guys are going to make me do this.” She chuckled.

“Freebird!” Mike faux shouted from the back of the room, which drew a round of laughs.

Ramirez rolled her eyes then, clearing her throat, she began, “Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, Prospero año y felicidad.”

The assembled company joined in, singing wholeheartedly, filling the whole of the house with music and joy, happiness, and light.

When the song ended, there was a round of applause, “encore encore!” A voice with a thick Spanish accent called from behind Ramirez before the same black woman from the photograph emerged around the corner and quickly swooped in to kiss Ramirez on the cheek.

“All right. I think we’re ready to eat!” Ramirez called, through the commotion, quickly stowing away the guitar. “Finish up what you’re doing, and then everyone should go wash their hands.” She instructed.

There was a tidal wave of activity, and Ramirez conducted it with such ease, Natasha couldn’t help but watch in wonderment at the pure mastery of it all. “It’s a bit much if you’re not used to the commotion.” 

She looked up to find the late arrival standing beside where Natasha was sitting. “Daniella Alvarez. I’m Magdalene’s partner.” She said, extending a hand to her.

“Oh. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Natasha managed, standing up and shaking the woman’s hand.

“You must be Natasha Romanoff. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same.” Natasha glanced around. “You have me at a bit of a disadvantage.”

At this, Daniella chuckled with a nod, her gaze wandering to Ramirez, who was settling everyone into a plate of tamales, rice, beans. There was a large container of salsa being passed around, and a general elbowing and jockeying for plates, cups, and glasses. “She contains multitudes and depths beyond.”

“She does.” Natasha agreed.

“How are you doing, Dani?” Mike asked as he approached with two plates in hand.

“Can’t complain, Mike, one of those for me?” She laughed.

“Yes ma’am, and for Ms. Natasha over here. We haven’t scared you too much, have we?” Mike said, handing off one plate to Daniella before extending the other to her.

“You’re nothing I can’t handle,” Natasha replied.

“Good to hear, good to hear. I gotta get going, but I hope to see you around,” he nodded. “Glad I finally got to meet you.”

“Yeah. You too.” She managed before Mike made his way back through the kitchen to say his goodbyes.

At length, Ramirez made it over to the table, sinking into a chair between her and Daniella. “So, you guys met.”

“We did,” Daniella nodded, “You have a good day?”

“Busy. You?”

“Much of the same.”

“What do you do?” Natasha asked, inserting herself into the conversation, trying to get a handle on the whole situation to the best of her ability.

“I’m in social work. Mike and I are co-workers.” She explained. “We started this after school program for at-risk kids.”

“A number of them couldn’t be here today.” Ramirez cut in between bites of tamale.

“How many do you normally have?”

“Fifteen to twenty on a good day, when the weather is good.” Daniella supplied.

“Sounds like a lot to manage.”

“A lot of them enjoy working outside in the garden or with the animals. It’s actually been really good to get them socializing after a lot of their familial and social networks were disrupted after—” Daniella cut herself off, taking a quick drink from her glass. “It gives them a sense of purpose, community, and responsibility.” She concluded.

Did that mean they were without parents? Or did at risk mean something else? Natasha didn’t want to know, but she knew that everyone present had been touched by what had happened personally and that the presence of this refuge, this space, this family that Ramirez had provided was invaluable to all of them.

“That’s good. I’m glad they have that. Glad that you’re here to do that for them, Ramirez.”

“Well. We all have you to thank,” Daniella continued. “From the way Mags tells it, you’re the reason she’s here with us today.”

 _Oh. So it’s Mags._ Natasha couldn’t help but notice Daniella’s use of the pet name James and Wilson had used almost exclusively to refer to Ramirez. It made something in her chest ache, but Natasha ignored it. “I have no doubt she would’ve made it on her own.”

“Don’t be so dang modest, Natasha Romanoff. Enough with the barefaced lie, and just take the compliment.” Ramirez interjected.

“It’s a hard habit to shake, Ramirez,” Natasha replied.

“Regardless, we’re glad you’re here. Unfortunately, I can’t stay long—”

“Hey Ramirez, Molly and I were getting ready to head out,” James announced, cutting off Daniella with his approach. “Romanoff, it was good to meet you.”

“Thanks, you too.”

“Let me walk you out.” Ramirez rose, “Excuse me.”

“She’s busy,” Natasha commented, watching her talk to James and Molly as they got ready to leave.

“Insanely. But If she’s told me once, she told me a thousand times, what’s the point of having this big house if you don’t fill it with people you love.” She chuckled. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get my ducks in a row so we can get out of your hair.”

Daniella rose and started orchestrating clean up amongst the kids. The remaining adults: Bill, Mitchel, and Suzanne orchestrated the distribution of the tamales amongst the group, before assisting in the general clean up of the kitchen. When Ramirez reappeared, the kitchen was spotless, and there was a large motion toward the door, plastic bags full of tamales in each of the kids’ hands.

Well, most of them anyway. Natasha couldn’t help but notice that the two teenagers Diego and Alecia, stood back along with Sara, Bianca, and Ava Maria, who held onto her mother’s hand with one hand a part of a tamale in the other.

There was a round of goodbyes from Bill, Suzanne, and Mitchell as they left. Then a hasty goodbye from Dani, who again pecked Ramirez on the cheek before she led the group in a round of goodbyes directed at her. Then Ramirez walked them from the house, and the house settled into a moderate silence for the first time since Natasha had arrived.

Glancing at her watch, she exhaled. It was only 7:00 pm?

 _What the hell was all that?_ Natasha rubbed her forehead. Rising, she wandered into the living room where the group had disappeared on their way out the front door.

She stopped in the large archway and chuckled—that _damn couch._

Natasha had been genuinely surprised that Ramirez had taken her ratty Craigslist couch from the compound after the house had been built. She’d been sure that the couch would get trashed or left behind for someone else to deal with. Instead, that had been one of the first things Ramirez had loaded up and brought with her, followed by the loom.

She paused, her eyes going to the massive wall to her left where the loom was set up. It appeared Ramirez was mid-way through a project, though how she had the time to weave on top of all the other things she was apparently doing with her time was beyond Natasha. Presently, it was almost entirely obscured by the large Christmas tree that had been set up and heavily laden with decorations.

Around the room, there were pictures on the wall, group photos mostly of Ramirez, and the kids along with Daniella and the volunteers. And Natasha couldn’t help but smile at how happy all of them looked, if even just for the picture. She paused, as her gaze flicked to the Ofrenda, which sat on the wall opposite the loom and tree, entirely filled with pictures. Natasha pivoted and walked toward the massive shelf, inspecting it closely. It wasn’t any of the pieces of furniture that Ramirez had acquired while she was living with them at the compound, but Natasha couldn’t imagine where she might have gotten it in the time she’d been out here.

She scanned the rows of photographs. Dozens of faces were smiling out at her. Then her eyes locked with those of her former self, from what felt like a lifetime ago—that evening on the rooftop of the Wakanda Royal Observatory. The last time all of them had been together. Ramirez was smiling brightly, practically glowing in the light. James beside her with Sam and Steve and, of course, King T’Challa and Nakia.

A lot of those two years had been shit, but that night had almost made up for all of it, seeing Barnes happy, in love, with someone so diametrically different than him that it had been as hilarious as it had been endearing.

What was it that she’d told him? During their conversation, well half conversation, on the balcony? People like us don’t get to hold onto people like her for very long? She’d meant that people like them (her and James) would have to move on and leave people like her behind. Yet, as she stood in front of the Ofrenda in Ramirez’s living, looking at photographs of the past on the altar, surrounded by photos of the present, Natasha felt an odd sensation come over here. _She_ was the one standing still. _She_ was the one being left behind. Ramirez was the one fighting forward, pressing on.

There was a sudden burst of noise and commotion as the front door opened, and Ramirez, along with Diego, Bianca with Ava Maria on her hip, Alecia, and Sara re-emerged, the dogs bounding in happily. “All right, everyone, who has homework to finish up?” Ramirez asked in the overly cheerful tone of mothers and guardians everywhere. There was a round of grumbling, but Natasha watched as Diego, Alecia, and Sara collected their backpacks and went to the kitchen table, pulling out their spiral notebooks and textbooks and settle in for the evening.

“Hey,” Ramirez said breathlessly as she walked up beside her. “Sorry. It’s been a busy evening. How are you hanging in there?”

“I was admiring your Ofrenda,” Natasha answered. “It’s beautiful.” She added, unwilling to admit what she’d just be thinking.

“It is. It’s a new addition. Diego actually an excellent carpenter.” Ramirez replied, practically bursting with pride.

“You’re not going to tell her that I hand designed and carved it myself, just for Dia de Muertos this year, are you?” Diego cut in with a dry sarcasm.

“He designed it and carved it himself. He’s quite the craftsman.” She said with a wry smile. “Which is why he’s struggling in trig?” She called over her shoulder.

“I know trig. It’s the teacher sucks. She doesn’t know shi-”

“Language.” Alecia, Sara, and Ramirez all called out at once, which was then followed by a round of giggles from everyone present. Natasha’s mouth quirked up at the corner.

Had she told Ramirez that story? Or was this a joke of their own invention? Natasha didn’t know, and the room quieted back down before she could ask.

“Hey, mom.” They both turned to see Bianca with Ava Maria on her hip, now dressed and ready for bed. “She’s ready to go down.”

“Sing. Sing. Sing.” Ava Maria chanted in a sleepy sing-song tone.

“Mom sings and plays a song for her before she’ll go down,” Bianca explained quickly.

Ramirez glanced up at her, “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all.” Natasha shook her head.

Again, Ramirez took up the guitar, which was situated beside the Ofrenda, and sat down on the corner of the couch. Bianca sat down on the opposite end of the couch, Ava Maria wriggling around to focus intently on Ramirez.

A hush fell over the house for a second time, as she focused on the guitar, picking out a tune. Then clearing her throat, she began plucking the strings in a bright melody, “ A long time ago in the small border town of Nogales, there lived a beautiful Mexican girl named Ava-Maria Morales,” Ramirez sang. 

The little girl giggled as Ramirez sang her name. _So that’s why it’s her favorite._ Natasha pondered. It certainly wasn’t a happy song. It was, in fact, a tragedy about a woman who’s lover, an outlaw, was killed, and in response, the woman spent the rest of her life hoping he’d come home to her.

Ramirez’s voice was strong and clear, her movements deft of the frets of the guitar, the fingers of her left hand picking at the string.

 _She’s playing the guitar backward._ Natasha realized finally as she watched. Ramirez hadn’t learned to play the guitar again with her left hand. She’d learned how to play with her right hand.

There was some sort of metaphor here, Natasha was sure, but what it was she couldn’t say, and instead was enraptured, like the two and half year old by the sound of Ramirez’s voice and the melody as she played. 

The song ended, and Ava Maria’s head was drooping sleepily. Bianca rose, whispering goodnight to her and Ramirez before taking the child up the stairs. And just as quickly as the houseHold had been enchanted by the song, it quickly resumed it’s work with a busy scratching of pencil on paper.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” Ramirez asked after a moment, her eyes darting a moment to the kitchen table where the kids sat working on homework.

“Sure.” She nodded.

Wordlessly they walked to the back door, where Natasha had left her coat and boots. Bundling up in silence, they started out into the snowy night.

“You could’ve told me, you know,” Natasha said flatly after they had walked down the hill toward her car.

“Would you have shown up if you’d known there was going to be a gaggle of people around?” Ramirez answered.

Natasha nodded, conceding the point. She’d seriously debated canceling tonight as it was, so Ramirez’s point was more than fair. “I take it there’s some kind of story involved,” She commented.

“February of 2019, I get a phone call from Mike. The children’s group home where he works, the one he’d been trying to get an after school program started at, had a young teen mom with a newborn who was getting ready to age out with nowhere to go.” Ramirez explained.

“Bianca and Ava Maria.”

“Mhh, hmm.” She bobbed her head. The house was complete, and it could easily sleep ten. So I figured, what the hell. If she wanted to come live with me, I wouldn’t mind signing the paperwork if meant she was going to have a safe place for her and her child to crash.”

“What happened to her parents?”

“Kicked her out for being pregnant. No idea what happened to them after Thanos.” Ramirez shook her head. “So. For a bit, it was just Bianca and I. Then spring came, and Bill, Suzanne, Mike, Mitchel, James, and the others started figuring out this whole community farm thing. Then enters Daniella.”

“Who at this point is Mike’s co-worker?”

“Yes, We start the afterschool program. Gets kids outside, working with their hands, creating, and channeling their energy. It was through that that I got to know Daniella, and it was around then that Diego and Sara came to me.”

“Siblings?”

“Yeah.”

“And Alecia?”

“She’s the newest addition to our little clan. She’s been with us about six months. Settling in, but still a little uncertain about this whole situation.” Ramirez explained.

“So, you really took on a farm and four foster kids in an apocalypse ?”

“Oh. No, I adopted them.” Ramirez corrected. “They’re legally my kids.”

Natasha stopped in her tracks. “Ramirez, why didn’t you tell us?”

“I dunno. You were busy trying to keep the world running, and Steve was doing his thing with the support group in the city,” She faltered. “I didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding like I was bragging or making light of the situation somehow.” Ramirez paused, tilting her head back, her face pointed up at the sky, letting the snowflakes fall on her eyelashes. “I didn’t want you to think that I was forgetting them.” She added, almost out of earshot.

“I don’t think anyone could accuse you of that,” Natasha answered. Then glancing back at the barn, looming large in the dark landscape behind them, added. “And out here, I wouldn’t think you’d be able to forget.”

Ramirez nodded, and they continued walking.

It was hard for Natasha to imagine that this was the place James had ended up, over six years ago after the hellicarriers had gone down. Of all the places to stumble onto, it would be into this woman’s barn. It was a statistical unlikelihood, and yet it had given James the chance he’d needed to recuperate from the cocktail of psychotropic drugs Hydra had pumped him full of so that he’d be able to fend off whatever they were going to throw at him in their attempt to bring him back into the fold.

In the early days of their search for Barnes after Ramirez had joined them, Natasha had often wondered what kind of woman would let a random stranger, a _dangerous_ random stranger, stay in their barn. Now, Natasha knew the answer. It was the kind of woman that would learn multiple languages and risk her personal well being to track down a missing man so that she could bring him home to his dying sister. It was the kind of woman who would cross the border and fight the cartels to keep secrets safe from her own government. It was the kind of woman who, in the face of a universe-wide apocalypse, had decided to start a farm to grow food for the local community and adopt five orphans and care for who knew how many more. 

How small and insignificant Natasha felt. Sure, she’d been an Avenger, but what good had that done anyone in the end? What sort of impact had she made that any quantifiable scales could measure? And furthermore, why would someone like Ramirez want someone like _her_ in her life, when she was worthy of so much more and so much _better_ than Natasha could ever possibly do?

“What do you think he’d think of all this?” Ramirez questioned.

“I think he’d be very pleased. Him and Wilson.”

Ramirez glanced over at her, her brow wrinkled in a quizzical expression. “I meant Steve.”

“Oh.” Natasha tried to recover. “I think Steve is going to be very proud of you.”

“Do you think it could convince him to come and take a look at what I’ve done in person?” She continued.

“That I couldn’t say.” Natasha shook her head. They walked a little way further before Natasha got up the courage to ask the question that had been nagging in the back of her mind the whole evening. “Why does it matter so much to you that we see the ranch?”

“I dunno,” Ramirez shrugged with a heavy sigh, her breath going up like a smokestack as she did. “I guess I thought you might want to see the place Sam and I used to call home, for a bit anyway, see the place where our paths, all of our stories intersected.”

Natasha didn’t know how to respond to that. Maybe it was because she’d never stayed in a place long enough to call it home, or had never given much thought to what a place could mean to someone with deep roots there. Back when they’d been looking Barnes, she had been able to understand why Ramirez had wanted her old life back. No one should live the kind of life Natasha had been forced into, never mind someone as people-oriented as Ramirez. But being invited to see that home, that was uncharted territory for Natasha.

“But you’ve been busy,” Ramirez continued. “How is the gang? Carol, Okoye, Rocket, Rhodey, and Nebula, right?”

“They’re good.” She replied, doing her best not to hear the resignation in Ramirez’s voice as she changed the subject. “Busy. Okoye sends her regards to you as do Nakia and Teela.”

“I should email Tee again. I miss talking to her.” She commented to herself. “Send my best to all of them,” Ramirez added brightly.

“Nakia also wanted you to know that your friends south of the border are still doing well,” Natasha said, her stomach twisting a moment. “They…recently had some help from an old friend.”

“Clint?”

Natasha nodded.

“I’m sorry, Natasha.” Ramirez twined her arm around hers, their shoulders bumping as she did. “If there’s anything I can--”

“I think you have your plate more than full here, Ramirez.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Besides, if he wanted me to find him, I would’ve found him by now.”

“He’ll come around. And when he does, you’ll be there for him.” She said it with such confidence, Natasha could only marvel and wonder what her secret was.

 _She contains multitudes and depths beyond._ That’s what Daniella had said about Ramirez. Natasha had always known that, but seeing it in the face of world wide apocalypse and calamity was another thing entirely.

“Daniella seems nice.” Natasha ventured.

“She is nice,” Ramirez agreed.

 _I’m sure you know what she wants you to know. Ramirez likes to play things close to her chest._ Mike had said.

Well, Natasha had always said that if Ramirez could just keep her head down and her mouth shut, she’d have the makings of a spy. It seemed like she’d taken that lesson to heart. “Seems like you’ve taken my advice to heart.” She commented dryly.

“Well. I do make sure that all of my doors and windows are locked before I go to bed.” Ramirez answered just as dryly in response. She cracked a small smile, and a chuckle followed. “I’ve always played things close to the chest. It’s what got me into this whole situation in the first place. But I do take your meaning.”

“Ah.”

Ramirez nodded. “Dani lost her partner too, amongst others in her life. So when we met, it wasn’t like either of us was looking for a relationship. But when we started working together to get the afterschool program and the farm off the ground. Something just clicked.” She shook her head, “I think she’s the best reminder I have that those we lose aren’t truly gone.”

“How’s that?”

“We talk about them sometimes: Alejandra, Bucky, Sam, Riley, amongst others. The way she talks about Alejandra, it’s like I knew her. Then there are things Dani will do, and I can see the way Alejandra shaped her, imprinted something _fundamentally_ Alejandra on her.” She chuckled to herself. “And sure, I think some of that’s my imagination or some fancy. But then I’ll catch myself doing something that sounds _just_ like something Bucky would’ve said, or Sam, or even you or Steve, and I know that the people we lose never really leave us.”

“Me and Steve,” Natasha murmured.

“Well,” She contemplated her next words before speaking. “It might help if you guys would come and visit every once in a while.”

So Ramirez felt as though she’d lost her and Steve too. Was that what the insistent invitations and group chat was all about? Trying to stay connected, trying to keep them from drifting apart completely? She could see it, sure. But Ramirez hadn’t lost her and Steve entirely, had she? Well, all of them had sort of lost parts of themselves, hadn’t they? And in the aftermath, they’d all taken different routes to figure out what the hell they were supposed to do now. Ramirez had left to start a new life, and she and Steve had well… “I take your point, Ramirez.”

They trudged along a little further, and Natasha realized that Ramirez had led them around in a gigantic circle, their trajectory leading them back up to the back door to the house. “I think this snow calls for cocoa,” Ramirez said. “Would you like to come in, warm up a bit before you head off?”

“I should probably get going,” Natasha answered as casually as she could manage, knowing if she didn’t disentangle herself now, she might not get another chance for a graceful exit. “it’s getting late, and the roads are going to start getting bad.”

Ramirez looked up at her with an expression that indicated to Natasha that she wasn’t buying _anything_ Natasha was saying, and Natasha braced, waiting for the rebuttal. “I understand. Let me get you some tamales with the fixings, so you don’t have to worry about food for a couple days.”

“I—”

“Please. Natasha.” There was the slightest crack in Ramirez’s voice as she said it, and so wordlessly, Natasha nodded, and they both walked into the house.

Ramirez pulled off her boots before expertly stripping off her coat, scarf, and hat, shaking out her hair, which was--- “You cut off your hair.” Natasha stammered at the realization.

She chuckled, nodding as she waved them into the kitchen. The lights were still on, but the kitchen table had been vacated, with all signs that the kids had finished their homework and gone to bed.

Natasha blinked, astounded that she’d missed that detail, watching as Ramirez moved around the kitchen, preparing a to-go bag of at least three dozen tamales, and a good pound of rice and beans.

Well, the house had been humming with activity, but Ramirez’s shoulder-length locks should’ve been one of the first things she’d noticed when that had been one of her most defining attributes. “When did you do the big chop?” Natasha asked.

“Four or five months ago. I was tired of dealing with it, and figured it was time.” Ramirez shrugged. “It was _actually_ shorter than this. I’ve been letting it grow through the winter. I’ll get it cut again come spring, I imagine.”

Natasha had remembered the fights between Ramirez and Wilson about her hair when her hand had been in a cast, and Wilson had been the one helping her wash the waist-length locks. Wilson had wanted her to chop it all off, Ramirez had very adamantly refused. What had changed that made her cut all of her hair off?

“Come back some time, and I could probably convince Dani to cut your hair too if you’d like. She used to cut Alejandra’s hair, so she was happy to cut mine for me when I was ready.” Ramirez smiled warmly as she rounded the kitchen island and extended two plastic bags, one full of homemade tamales, wrapped in foil, the other holding the two to-go containers of rice and beans.

“Perhaps,” Natasha nodded, taking the bags from her.

There was a pause, and silence filled the space around them before Ramirez spoke again, “You could stay the night, you know if you’re worried about the roads being bad. It is a drive. There’s plenty of space here. It wouldn’t be any trouble.” Was that pleading in her voice? Natasha knew that all signs indicated that was the case, Yet she wasn’t quite sure _why_ Ramirez was pleading.

“I appreciate the offer, but I need to get back.”

“All right.” She nodded resolutely, and nothing more was said as she walked Natasha out the back door, quickly donning the winter weather gear she’d only just shed, and walked down the path back to where Natasha had parked her car.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself. I’m sorry that it was so busy, and we didn’t really get a chance to talk much.” She said finally after Natasha had carefully stowed away the food for transport.

“I did enjoy myself. You have a lovely home and family.”

“You’ll come and visit again soon, right?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Natasha managed.

“Let me know when you get home safe.” Ramirez paused before going up on her toes to hug her.

“Will do,” She smiled, returning the hug. “Merry Christmas, Ramirez.”

“A happy belated Hanukkah, Natasha.” She answered.

They pulled apart, and Ramirez took several steps back, letting Natasha get into her car with enough space to pull out of the drive.

Staring down the driveway, Natasha glanced back, surprised to see that Ramirez was still standing there, watching her go.

 _What is she thinking?_ Natasha couldn’t help but wonder.

 _What am I thinking?_ Came the next question.

Natasha wanted to stay. She wanted to spend more time getting to know Ramirez’s little family, which reminded her more than she cared to think about of Clint and Laura and their kids Cooper, Lilia, and Nathaniel. She wanted to give up the life of uncertainty, and pain, and loneliness that had consumed her since Thanos had destroyed the stones. Natasha wanted to take a part of what Ramirez had created for herself. She wanted to steal part of the light, part of the joy Ramirez had created out of an abysmal situation. Natasha knew she wouldn’t even have to do that. Ramirez had offered her a seat at the table, a bed in her home, a place for her amongst the family she’d created. All Natasha had to do was reach out and take it.

But she wouldn’t. Because that would mean she’d given up. That she admitted defeat. That she’d stopped trying to find a way to fix what the Avengers had been unable to protect against. It meant living with that failure for the rest of her life.

Natasha continued down the narrow road, watching the figure get smaller and smaller in the light of the taillights, and then disappear entirely as she drove away, nothing more than a phantom in the frosty December night.

-

Maggie stood still a long while in the drive as Natasha’s car made its way down the gravel path and out to the main road, the taillights disappearing into the dark and snowy night. She then stood a few minutes longer, straining to hear the sound of tires crunching on the snow-covered drive.

“She’s going to come back. She’s going to turn around.” Maggie repeated over and over, like a prayer, hoping that if somehow she said it enough, it might come true.

Finally, chilled the bone with only the soft sound of falling snow filling her ears, Maggie relented to the crushing feeling of defeat and went back up the house.

Stripping off her outer layers, Maggie went to the sofa and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping it around her shoulders. Holding the blanket to her, Maggie squeezed her eyes shut, straining now to remember the heat of the Wakandan nights and the noises that would’ve accompanied it.

The first winter back in New York had been hard. She hadn’t felt like she would ever get warm again, but the blanket that had covered them in Wakanda had kept off the hard chill of a New York winter, and she’d lived to fight another day. 

Maggie had to admit the blanket had more than pulled its weight around this place since she’d moved in. She’d wrapped Ava Maria in this blanket when the girl had come down with her first fever, and it had been draped over the backs of all of her kids their first night in the house when they’d been too wired, or scared, or uncertain to go upstairs into the bedrooms she’d set aside for them. The blanket had been cried on, stepped on, bled on, peed on (in one unfortunate incident with the dogs), and had provided comfort to many who had come into her house. Yet it didn’t look any different than the day she’d first removed it from the loom and presented it to Bucky. The colors were bright and her pattern, while now sloppy by her standards, was still vibrant and alive.

Just like her and her house and her family. She’d just rather hoped she’d be able to make it a little bit bigger tonight.

It had been good to see Natasha. It had been far too long since their last visit, and Maggie was glad that Natasha had actually come out to the ranch. She was glad Natasha had gotten to meet everyone: the kids, the crew, and of course, Dani. Maggie honestly hadn’t been sure how Natasha was going to handle the whole thing, and so like a lot of things in her life, she’d waited until the last possible second to break the news. It hadn’t gone badly, and now it was more than likely that Steve would know about her life and family within at least the next 10-12 hours if she knew Natasha and Steve.

Still, as well as the evening had gone, Maggie knew that it could’ve gone better.

She sighed, trying not to let the nagging sensation of disappointment spoil her mood. She’d been so sure she’d be able to get Natasha to stay the night. Maggie had _hoped_ that by getting Natasha out here, she’d get her foot in the door to open the conversation about leaving the compound and joining her and her family out here.

Her phone buzzed and Maggie rummaged in her hoodie in search of the source. Retrieving the pesky device, she opened the message she’d just received. _‘She stay?’_

It was from Dani.

Maggie exhaled sharply through her nose as she typed out, _‘No.’_

She watched as the message sent, was delivered, and read by Dani. Maggie then counted to three, and Dani’s picture showed up on the screen. She was calling.

“Hey babe,” Maggie said as she answered the phone, her voice was low, soft so that it wouldn’t carry and wake up the kids.

“You okay?” Dani asked after a brief pause.

“Trying not to be disappointed, and trying not to feel dumb for getting my hopes up,” Maggie replied.

“You’re not dumb for getting your hopes up. She’s your friend, and you care about her well being tremendously,” Dani soothed.

“I know. I know. I just really thought if I could…yanno get her out here that it might convince her to…” Maggie could feel her chest constricting, her voice developing an audible lump.

“You can’t save people who don’t wanna be saved, Mags,” Dani continued.

“And I think that’s what fucking sucks about this whole thing,” She sighed. “I’m just sitting here watching them isolate themselves and not make any real efforts to move on. Why won’t they accept my help?” It took everything she had not to wail into the phone.

There was a pause before Dani spoke again, “You want me to come back and stay the night? Sounds like you need a good cry.”

“No. I’ll be okay. The roads are probably getting dangerous.” Maggie answered. “But this’ll be something that I call and talk to Becky about tomorrow.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“Thank you for checking on me Daniella. You know you didn’t have to do that. I’m a big girl. I can deal with my fucked up friend situation on my own.”

“Mags, baby, it’s part of being in a relationship. I’m allowed to worry and fuss and check up on you.” Dani chuckled gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And I AM grateful for your fussing, I’m just complaining to complain.”

“You’re welcome, mi amor. I have to go. I just wanted to check up on you. Try to get some rest, okay?”

“I’ll do my best, doll. You have an early day tomorrow?”

“Not as early as yours.” She answered, a smile in her voice. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Night.”

Maggie hung up and sighed, rubbing her face with a weary hand. Dani was right. Maggie knew she was right, which didn’t make it any easier. If you tried to save a drowning man who wouldn’t let you save them, they’d drag you down with them.

So was Maggie just supposed to let them drown? That wasn’t an option that she even wanted to contemplate because it seemed selfish. But what else was she supposed to do?

 _Fuck,_ she’d really hoped that getting Natasha and Steve out to the house would help. Furthermore, it felt wrong that she was here with the little family she’d created while both of them spent the holidays alone, by themselves, in whatever little worlds they’d built around themselves in the past two and a half years.

_That’s what they chose to do. You gave them alternatives, you extended a hand to them, multiple times now._

All the same. It still felt like there was a massive hole in her chest. _Holes_ , rather, Maggie corrected herself. There were holes in her chest, and the holiday season had done nothing to ease the constant, throbbing pain she still felt in the absence of those who’s presence would help fill them.

Digging again through her hoodie pocket, she removed a pair of headphones, a mounting pressure building behind her eyes. She plugged them into her phone and slipped both earbuds in.

Was this self-harm? Probably. She’d own up to it tomorrow with her therapist, Becky. But after the day she’d had, she wanted to hear his voice.

Scrolling through her phone, she found the file she was looking for and hit play, her eyes already glistening before he could get the first words out. ‘ _Hey Mags, It’s been a while, hope you’re doing well. Steve, and Wanda, and Nat say hello. We all hope you’ve settled into life there…’_

Maggie had listened to the first audio letter she’d gotten from Sam while she was in Wakanda so much she knew it by heart. And not just the words, she knew the timbre changes and inflection.

 _‘…I hope you’re not alone, though. That you’ve found people to spend time with. Hell, even if it’s_ _Barnes, it would be better than you being alone. It’s not good for you to be alone…’_

If they were both here, Maggie knew, Sam and Bucky, they’d know what to do. They’d know how to talk to Steve and Natasha and get them to pull themselves out of the funk they found themselves in.

 _‘I wish I could be there with you to celebrate Christmas. I know that was always our thing when we were together. That was always Riley’s favorite holiday, and we’d always make a huge thing of it. We_ _haven’t done that since he’s been gone, and not going to lie, I’ve missed it, I think about it, I still_ _think about it, even all these years later...’_

Maggie glanced around at the large Christmas tree filling one corner of the living room, decorated and brightly lit. Greenery and bright bows, and all sorts of Christmas decorations littered the empty wall spaces and the mantle, the likes of which would have made Martha Stewart’s arrangements look simple. Sam would’ve loved it, so would Riley. They’d be here with her, on this horrible ugly Craigslist couch, drinking spiked eggnog or Abuelita hot chocolate while they listed to Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby.

Likewise, she could only imagine what Steve and Bucky would’ve been like surrounded by the Martinez-Proctor clan making Latkes in her kitchen during the Hanukkah celebration she’d facilitated for the holiday. It had been a joy to provided space for the Martinez Proctor clan to gather for the holiday, while also introducing her kids to Hanukkah and the family that had taken her in the year she’d lived in the Avengers Tower. 

Maggie was grateful for what she had. Grateful for the people in her life who had made any of this possible, who’d helped her and supported her. She was grateful for her kids and proud of how brave they were being by celebrating the holidays boldly and joyfully for the first time since their lives had turned upside down. It just also was so very, very painful remembering all of the people she’d lost, all of the faces missing from the dinner table and voices absent from the excited laughter and loud conversations.

 _‘I'll be home for Christmas, You can plan on me, Please have snow and mistletoe, And presents on the tree.’_ He sang.

Tears streamed down Maggie’s face as Sam sang, and she reveled in the pain that was causing the tears. But it wasn’t just pain. It was grieving, it was remembering, it was choosing to acknowledge that while she had built herself a new home, a new life, a new family in the 905 days since the end of the world, and 825 days since she’d left the compound, she also hadn’t entirely moved on.

How could she? How could any of them completely move on? Maggie didn’t know, but she was trying, and not just for her sake, but for the sake of her friends who’d accepted her with open arms after she’d disappeared for four years, and for the kids she’d brought into her life, and for Dani who’d lost people too, and was also trying to find her way through this horrible and crazy world they were living in.

Maybe she’d thought it would be easier to do that with Steve and Natasha here with her. Maybe she’d reasoned that it would hurt less with two fewer holes in her heart.

That’s what she wanted for Christmas, all of them, here, together, working through it as a team to get through this mess, to find a way forward, to heal, and grieve, and love together. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen.

 _‘If only in my dreams.’_ Sam’s voice concluded, _‘I love you, Mags, I’m thinking about you, I hope you’re doing well, and I hope to hear from you soon. Merry Christmas._ _’_ The recording ended, and she pulled the earbuds from her ears with a heavy sigh.

Then wiping at her face, Maggie sniffled as she removed her phone from the confines of her blanket and diligently started her to-do list for the following day: places people needed to get to, groceries and supplies to collect, tamales to drop off, appointments, and of course animal things that had to be taken care of daily. Engrossed in her thoughts and her list of things to do, Maggie almost didn’t notice that Natasha had texted her, confirming that she’d made it back to the Compound safely.

Acknowledging the text and wishing Natasha a good night, Maggie rose and crossed the room to shut off the tree. Glancing over her shoulder at the Ofrenda sitting on the opposite wall, she couldn’t help but smile at all of the faces smiling back at her. _Better times._ That was her first thought as she surveyed the group photo of them at New Year’s, happy, content, unaware of the massive amount of shit headed their way.

 _No_ , she corrected herself, _different times._ They were different times than now, and while she couldn’t say these were good times, she was trying to make them happy and stable and _normal_. And she could only hope in the years that would come, everyone present would remember how hard she’d tried to give everyone a good Christmas and bring joy, hope, and light back into their lives.

_What you’re doing is important. Keep going._

She could hear Bucky’s voice urging her on in that earnest and firm tone. And she was doing it. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other, and she didn’t even have to remind herself to breathe so much anymore. She was surviving, and Maggie knew that Bucky, and Sam, and Riley, and Becca, and everyone else she’d lost would be proud of her for that.

Turning off the lights, she quietly ascended the staircase, and after checking that everyone was in their beds and sleeping soundly, she went to bed as the snow continued to fall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know snow and Christmas aren’t exactly seasonal in the middle of September, but here we are! I hope you enjoyed! It was actually quite a blast to write Mags with a FAMILY. What are the odds right? I hope to hear with you think. I’m so excited to share what comes next (I’m writing feverishly trying to make sure I get everything right!). Kudos, Comments, and general waving are always welcome and appreciated. I hope you are all doing well. Stay Safe Out there y’all! Until next time, Happy Reading!


	4. Whatever It Takes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> Recommended Listening: What Are You Going to Do When You’re Not Saving the World? From The Man of Steel Soundtrack; Whatever it Takes by Imagine Dragons; Going Down Fighting by Phlotilla
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=VrzVBao9QYWZ96vvdYQUog

It had been five years since the Battle of Wakanda and the end of the world, and nearly that long since Magdalene Ramirez had left the compound to return to her ranch in upstate New York.

Steve hadn’t seen her in person since.

Nat had. They’d started having monthly dinners. Then after Ramirez had gotten settled in the new house, Nat had gone every once in a while, to the ranch for a few hours for dinner, and to hang out with Ramirez’s kids, partner, and volunteers.

He could hardly wrap his mind around the idea. Natasha said they were happy, and for his part, Steve was glad. After all the shit Ramirez had been through because of him, because of Bucky, she deserved to find peace and happiness.

Steve also knew it wasn’t going to make this visit any easier.

Natasha was driving her car up ahead, while he followed behind on his motorcycle. The scenery was green and lush, the hills rolling as they moved farther away from the city and deeper into upstate New York.

Steve had never been to the ranch during the day, and he’d only been there once, and it wasn’t a night that Steve liked to remember. Then again, there were a lot of things Steve wished he could forget.

All the same, he was finally making the drive out after five years of Ramirez asking. Steve hadn’t _wanted_ to stay away. In truth, he’d missed her. But she’d moved on, and he just hadn’t. He still wanted to fix what had happened while she’d just accepted the new normal and moved on. It wasn’t something that could easily be reconciled.

Only now they’d found a way to bring everyone they’d lost back. Tomorrow morning they were going to make the jump through time to reclaim the stones. This was something that he _knew_ Ramirez would want to know about and, in fact, probably had the biggest right to know than most anyone else he could think of.

Her life had literally been turned upside down after Hydra had burned her house to the ground and tortured her. And for four years, Ramirez had been in a various state of on the run, from being declared dead by the state to illegally crossing the border to avoid being taken in by the feds when Bucky had been declared public enemy number one, to spending time as a guest of the Wakandan Royal family. If anyone deserved a heads up, it would be Ramirez. Win or Lose, Fail or succeed, Ramirez deserved to know the stakes in advance.

It was just that instinctually, Steve knew that she would be against the plan. It was against her entire _idiom,_ so to speak. She was highly adaptable and had thus far been able to focus her energies on moving forward. She would see it as a massive step backward for him, Natasha, and the rest of the team.

However, Steve knew the risks both of telling her and not telling her. Plus, given the stakes of the mission, he knew it was better than waiting until _after_ to clue her in on what was going on. Natasha had, of course, agreed that they should tell her before they made the jump. Natasha had just reasoned that this was a conversation that he needed to have with her A) alone, and B) in person. Plus, it would give Steve a chance to hand over some of the things Becca had given him shortly before her passing to Ramirez. Should the worst happen, Steve could think of no better steward of Bucky’s memory than someone who’d loved him as well.

So with less than 72 hours before the jump, Steve had texted Ramirez and scheduled a visit.

He could tell by the emoji’s she’d used that she was thrilled they were coming out. Steve could only hope that she’d feel that way _after_ they’d told her what they were going to tell her.

Ramirez was waiting for them in the gravel drive when whey arrived, looking almost exactly as Steve imagined she would be dressed in her usual cotton button-down with cuffed sleeves, a Wakandan scarf twisted around her neck in a cowl, and familiar Wakandan leather boots with her jeans tucked in. Yet there were changes to her features, small indications that time had passed. Her hair, for instance, was shorter, pulled up in a small messy bun, rather than her usual braid, streaks of silver at her temple, and there was the faintest inclination crows feet around her eyes as she smiled. 

“It’s a beautiful day for a ride, huh?” She called over the roar of the engines, a bright smile on her face.

“Something like that.” Steve agreed as he killed the engine and climbed off the bike.

“Ooooh!” Ramirez exclaimed, crossing the space between them, “It’s so good to see you!” She embraced him warmly, and Steve returned it, the knot in his chest easing slightly.

Already, this was a much better reunion than the one he’d had with Tony, though he knew this would most likely be a tougher discussion.

“I’m so glad you finally made it out,” She continued as they broke from the embrace.

Behind them, Natasha got out of her car, removing the boxes they’d brought with them, doing her best to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“You need help with that, Nat?” Steve asked, momentarily diverting Ramirez’s attention as she turned to look.

“I got it,” Nat shrugged. “The back door’s unlocked, right?”

“Yeah?”

“I can run these up to the house if you wanna give Steve a tour.”

 _Thanks for that, Natasha._ But Steve knew what she was doing, and ultimately she was right. If there was a chance they could bring everyone back, Ramirez deserved to know, and furthermore deserved to hear it from him.

“Do you want a tour?” Ramirez asked uncertainly, looking him up and down.

Steve could understand her reaction. He was by his own admission, a born and bred city boy. And aside from the few days he’d spent on the Barton family farm back in 2015 there hadn’t been many occasions for him to think or know much about what farming actually entailed. “Sure.” He answered.

Ramirez nodded, though he could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced.

She led him around the garden, explaining her planting methods and work with the Mohican Indian Agriculture Department on ethical and sustainable growing. She led him around the pasture where there were goat and sheep and a few dairy cows grazing, guarded by two dogs she referred to as “Cap” and “Sarge” and a donkey known lovingly as Sally. She then took him by the stock pond, where there were ducks and geese. She showed him where she was keeping bees, and then by the horse enclosure where Ghost and Shadow, the only two animals original to the ranch from 2014, were munching lazily on hay. Before finally, she took him to the chicken coops and the pigpen.

As they walked, she talked enthusiastically about her projects, and crop yield, and the ways that she hoped to expand and change and keep growing the farm as the needs of the community changed and grew, the whole thing green, sustainable, and off the grid. She was happy, if not obscenely busy, and Steve could appreciate how much work she put in day in and day out to keep the place going. Yet, the entire time, all Steve could think was, _should I tell her what we’re getting ready to do?_ Would it be cruel to tell her? Or worse not to? He’d been here before with Becca’s health, and it had taken months for Ramirez to even speak to him again, never mind broach the subject of forgiveness.

This time was different. There wouldn’t be another opportunity to tell her, and with the slim odds and the danger they were getting ready to face, they might not make it back to tell her _anything_ ever again, even goodbye.

“So, that’s the farm.” She announced breathlessly as they returned to where they’d started just outside the barn on the gravel road that led to and from the main entrance. She was beaming with pride, her hands on her hips.

“This is amazing, Ramirez.” Steve admitted, glancing around the place pausing, he added, “I thought there’d be more people.” The way Natasha had talked about it, the place was usually swamped with kids and volunteers. Yet, today it seemed to be unusually quiet, and aside from Ramirez, Natasha, and him, there didn’t seem to be anyone around.

“Oh. There will be here in a little while. The kids from the after-school program will be by to help with the garden and some of the animals. The volunteers, too, will come and help with some of the heavier lifting.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Of course, my kids are mostly off and away. Diego has his own place and is going to technical school for carpentry and plumbing. Bianca is working full time as an accountant, and Alecia is working as an EMT while she finishes up her basics before applying to nursing school. They moved in together so that they could take care of Ava Maria, who’ll be starting kindergarten this year. Meanwhile, Sara splits her time between here and her brother’s place now. She’ll be applying to college this fall, she’s planning on going into social work and family counseling.”

“You must be very proud.”

“I am. They’re a good group of kids.” She agreed.

Kids. A family. A Farm. The slow life. Steve could feel something in his chest ache. It was a dream, far and distant, and practically foreign now. Something that he’d thought he might one day get for himself, but those dreams felt like those of a stranger, someone long lost to the mist of time. “The last time I saw the place…” Steve faded off, unable to form the words.

“You mean when it was on fire, and you were dragging me screaming from a burning building?” Ramirez supplied.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “You’ve really turned it around. I almost didn’t recognize it.”

“We’ve changed and adapted to the needs of a farm, rather than turning it back into an equine therapy facility.” She paused. “Would you like to see it?” Her voice was soft as she asked the question, and Steve was almost convinced she hadn’t actually wanted him to hear.

“See what?”

“Where I found him.” She answered.

“Oh.”

But of course. He’d been avoiding that. It had been in the back of his mind on the drive over but he had almost completely forgotten since. This _was_ the place where Ramirez’s part in this story had all started. This wasn’t merely the sight of a horrible house fire and brutal torture. This is where she and Bucky had first met, where she had taken him in. This was where it had all began.

“Come on.” Ramirez motioned for him to follow her without waiting for his response, and they walked into the barn, which was also oddly quiet.

There were no animals, those were all out in the pasture, or their pens and enclosures, and Steve could hear the echo of their footfalls on the wooden floor as Ramirez led the way.

“The barn’s been expanded,” Ramirez explained as they walked. “We’ve added a couple of additional pens, and reconfigured some of the stalls, to accommodate all of the new animals, but I had stall nine kept the same.” She said, stopping outside the stall marked by a brass number nine. “I use it as a quiet space for the kids if they get overwhelmed or need to step away.” Ramirez chuckled to herself as she opened the stall door and stepped inside, allowing him in behind her. “Though I will admit that I’ve used it myself too.”

“This is where you found him?” Steve asked, glancing around the small space. There was a bench against the back wall, facing the stall door, and the floor was swept clean and free of hay and dirt.

“Yeah.” Ramirez breathed. “So. What’s going on, Steve?”

He turned around at the sound of the stall door shutting, Ramirez standing squarely between him and the only way out. “What do you mean?” It was a weak response, even for him, but he’d rather hoped he’d be able to tell her with Nat around, if not to temper Ramirez’s reaction, then provide back up for when Ramirez inevitably disapproved of their plan.

“Well,” She began slowly, drawing the single syllable out with a twang. “While I appreciate your interest in my work, and I’m grateful that you’re here, I’ve been asking you to come out to the ranch for close to five years now. I poked, prodded, needled, begged, and attempted all manner of enticement I could think of to lure you out here for _five years_. And then yesterday, I get a text from you for the first time in _months_ asking if you can come out for a visit. ” Ramirez crossed her arms, leaning back against the door. “So, I’d say that’s a good indicator that something is going on that you need to tell me about.” She paused, “And you have a shit poker face.”

Steve exhaled, nodding in concession. Well. They’d arrived to the point much faster than he had anticipated, and from her expression alone, Steve knew Ramirez wasn’t going to give him an inch. So he’d just have to proceed forward. “We’ve found a way to bring everyone back.”

Ramirez remained perfectly still, not a muscle twitched in her expression, her mouth remained closed, her eyes focused on him. He’d expected some kind of reaction, even from just that statement alone. Only she hadn’t reacted, and so he’d have to keep going until he finished his piece and deal with the consequences as they came.

“We found a way to jump through time to get the stones so we can undo what Thanos did.” Steve paused, again, watching and waiting for Ramirez to say something, but found the same fixed, stony expression as before.

“We’re not going to erase the past five years. Everything that happened since Wakanda is going to happen still. But we’re going to reverse the snap.” He continued, still bracing, still waiting for her to say something, anything at all. “Natasha and I wanted to tell you because there isn’t a 100% guarantee this is going to work, but we thought you deserved to know, because of everything you were involved with back before this happened.”

Steve was stumbling over his words. He honestly hadn’t planned what he was going to say. He hadn’t thought he’d get this far. He’d assumed that Ramirez was going to cut in and protest immediately. Only she hadn’t. “We’re going to break up into teams. Stark, Lang, Banner, and I are going to New York in 2012 to the mind, time, and power stones. Nat and Barton will go for the soul stone, while Rhodes and Nebula go for the energy stone in 2014. Rocket and Thor are going to get the reality stone in 2013.” He explained, almost feverishly. “We’ll then bring them to the present, and use a gauntlet Stark has put together to snap everyone back.”

“Oh. Natasha found Clint? That’s good.” She commented distantly after a beat of silence.

Steve starred. That’s it? Is that really all she was going to say? What the hell was he supposed to do now?

“It sounds like you have it all very well planned out.” Ramirez continued after several more beats of silence.

“Yeah.” He exhaled slightly, “down to the minute.”

She nodded, “That’s good. I’m glad you have a plan. Plans are good.”

“You’re upset,” Steve said slowly, still trying to get an accurate read on her body language and facial expressions. They all returned inconclusive.

“No.” Ramirez shook her head. “I’m concerned.”

“Concerned?”

“Steve, did you listen to a single word that just came out of your mouth?” She asked, her voice was even, not a hint of anger or malice in them, just sheer bewilderment. 

Well. It was better than nothing. “It’s a long shot, but it’s a chance to undo what happened.” He said firmly. “It’s hope.”

“It sounds—it sounds like _suicide,_ Steve.” Ramirez stammered out. “You’re talking about messing around with time to get cosmic elemental crystals that hold the power of the universe and then ramming them into some contraption stark’s rigged up to hopefully, maybe undo an extinction-level event perpetrated by a genocidal alien five years ago? Have I missed something?”

Well, when she put it like that, yeah, it did sound like suicide, but what was he supposed to do? Not take that chance? Not at least try to get “It’s a chance to get Sam and Bucky back.” 

“It’s not about the if you succeed; it’s about what happens if you fail.” She shook her head. “You don’t know what it’s like to have to watch someone go off into danger, not knowing if they’re going to come back.”

Ramirez stopped herself, shaking her head again, “no, that’s not quite right. You do know. You had to do that once, back in 1943. You know how horrible that feeling is, not being able to protect the ones you love, unable to stop them from charging into battle. That’s what you’re asking me to deal with. That’s the gamble you’re making.”

“What’s my life against trillions?”

“Would you be okay if Bucky had asked you that question? Or Sam?” She asked, firmly, but not unkindly. When he didn’t respond, she broke her gaze from his and looked down, blinking hard. “They’ve been gone five years, Steve. And yes, it has been a difficult, horrible five years, and bringing them all back, that might help the hurt, that might start to put things back the way they were. But if you lose…Steve, it’s a long shot. It’s longer than a long shot. You can’t ask me to be okay with the thought of losing two more people that I love, two people that I’ve been trying to help, trying to _save_ since the whole world turned upside down.”

“I have to try, Ramirez.”

“You don’t _have_ to do anything, Steve.” At this, her voice cracked, tears in her voice. “There’s more to you than just being Captain America.”

“I’ll never be able to forgive myself if I don’t.” Steve shook his head, “I’m not like you, Ramirez. I can’t just move on. I can’t just forget what happened, forget how I _failed._ ”

She stepped toward him, and for a moment, Steve was sure she was going to embrace him. Instead, she moved to the bench in the corner and sank down, her head bowed, her hands clasped together as if in silent prayer.“Moving on isn’t forgetting, Steve. It’s not forgetting so you can stop feeling the pain of that loss. It’s learning to live with that pain and work through that pain.” Ramirez paused, “And we aren’t so different you and I. For one, we’re both hard-headed morons, who’d do anything for the people we care about. And for two, we both keep fighting. Even when we know we should stop, even when it’s hopeless. Our fights just look a little different, I guess.”

They sat in silence as Steve tried to figure out what to say next.

“When?” She asked after a moment.

“Tomorrow. 0800.”

“Then you’ll stay for dinner tonight with Dani, volunteers, the kids, and me.” Ramirez said firmly, “I won’t keep you out late. Just dinner, and then you can head back to the compound to prepare for your big day.” She rose and passed him, walking to the stall door. “Thank you, Steve. For having the courage to tell me all this yourself.” Opening the door, she paused at the sound of an approaching vehicle. “If you’d excuse me a minute, the kids are here, and I need to get them settled for the afternoon.”

Without another word, she walked from the barn, her footsteps fading into nothing as the voices of children swelled in the distance. Steve exhaled sharply, sitting down on the bench where Ramirez had briefly occupied and glanced around the small space.

 _So this is where she found him._ He leaned his head against the wall glancing up at the rafters. How different was the view he saw now from the one that Bucky might have seen when he’d been here? What had he thought about when he’d been here? Had he been scared and confused? He certainly couldn’t have known how everything was going to play out. None of them could’ve have imagined what life, what the world, the universe was going to throw at them.

What would’ve happened had he and Sam come to the cookout when Ramirez had asked them to? How would things have changed? How might the world be different from the way it was now? Would they have been able to stop Thanos? Would he and Tony have still fallen out?

A thousand what-ifs hinged just on that one decision—that one opportunity.

 _It’s suicide, Steve._ Her words rang out in his mind.

He’d known she wasn’t going to take it well, but to be honest, Steve hadn’t known what he’d expected Ramirez to say or do to the news that they were planning to jump through time to bring everyone back. And she wasn’t wrong when she said it sounded crazy. It _was_ crazy. But he’d hoped that she would at least understand why they were doing what they were doing?

Didn’t she want Sam and Bucky and everyone else back?

_It’s not about the if you succeed; it’s about what happens if you fail._

That’s what she’d said. That’s what was sticking in his brain. It’s not about the chance at success; it’s about the possibility of failure. But he’d already failed. What was one more final failure to put an end to it all? What was he if he didn’t at least _try_?

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of approaching footsteps. Natasha emerged in the stall doorway, pausing only momentarily to take in the scene before she joined him on the bench. “How’d she take it?” She asked after a moment.

“About as well as you’d expect,” Steve answered.

“She tell you not to do it?”

“In not so many words.” Steve shook his head. “She’s not worried about if we succeed. She’s worried about if we fail.”

“You mean if we all die in a horrible time travel accident?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“You having second thoughts?” Natasha asked.

“No.” Steve paused, trying to figure out what the conversation with Ramirez had left with him. Not much, really, other than the overwhelming feeling that he’d just received a really good guilt trip. “I guess I just thought that she’d be happier at the possibility of hope.”

“In all due respect, Rogers, I don’t think she was ever the one who needed hope.” She replied dryly as she leaned back against the wall of the barn.

Steve knew Natasha wasn’t wrong. From the beginning of their search for Bucky, through those first weeks back at the compound after the Battle of Wakanda, Ramirez had been a constant and steady driving source of…well…hope. Even beyond just hope, there had always been a forward momentum to Ramirez that Steve admired. There was always the next step, the next project, the next lead, the next _something._ Even after the end of the world, when she’d lost Sam and Bucky, and people close to her in Wakanda, Ramirez had pressed onward. Steve admittedly had been envious of her ability to press forward. After all, where could he possibly move on to? What was the next fight, the next mission, the next step for Captain America? What use could there possibly be for a Captain America in a world where he’d failed them?

_There’s more to you than just being Captain America._

That’s what she’d told him before she’d left the compound. That’s what she’d just told him a moment ago, and Steve knew she meant every word. Only, Steve wasn’t sure who might be under the cowl anymore, or behind the shield. Maybe that’s why he was so eager to throw himself back into harm’s way to try to fix what he’d been responsible for breaking.

“No matter what happens tomorrow, she’ll be okay. She’s a survivor.” Nat turned her head to look at him. “You did the right thing by telling her.”

“I know,” he nodded.

“Now, come on. You should meet the crew, and enjoy the evening. I think they said Ramirez has the stuff for tacos. All sourced from the farm.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Steve answered.

Natasha walked back outside, and Steve rose from the bench. There might be more to him than just being Captain America, and there might be a life for him beyond the world of monsters, gods, and super-soldiers, but right now, none of that mattered. He was going to do whatever it took to help fix the world, then maybe there could be a chance for a slow life for him. Maybe he might get that chance. The only way to find out what lay after tomorrow was to live through it.

_Whatever it takes._

-

Maggie watched first Natasha, and then a few minutes later, Steve exit the barn. She’d almost half expected them to sneak off without staying for dinner or bothering to say goodbye, but instead, Natasha dragged Steve over to Daniella and Mike. Then after a brief introduction and a general exchange of shooting the shit, they introduced Steve to the rest of the group.

Good. This was a good development. It was good to see Steve out here, on her ranch, interacting with people, her people in-fact she had wanted nothing else for over four years. Yet, now it was all tinged with the _knowing_ that he and Natasha and the rest of the Avengers were getting ready to do something so colossally dangerous. What was worse was that Maggie knew there was nothing she could do to stop them.

She wanted to cry, but knew now wasn’t the time. So instead, she limped through the rest of the afternoon and into dinner, watching as Steve and Natasha interacted with the community and family she’d built. A community and family she wished they’d join. A community and family Maggie knew would welcome them with open arms if only they’d let go of the past and take a step forward, toward healing, toward moving on.

_Or is there something wrong with me?_

The thought came with the crushing horrible guilt in the pit of her stomach. Something she’d wondered and pondered in the dark nights since she’d left the compound. Maybe she didn’t love Sam and Bucky as much as Steve and Nat did. Maybe her ability to move on was rooted in something fundamentally broken. Perhaps, she’d gone from one extreme to another.

“Hey, You okay?” Maggie turned to see Dani standing beside her.

Hadn’t she just been talking with Natasha and Steve? Maggie blinked, trying to puzzle through this without revealing what she’d just been contemplating. “I—yeah, I’m fine.” She stammered unconvincingly.

“Well. I thought you should know. I’m taking tomorrow off. You’ve been working too hard, and I thought you’d want the help.” Dani paused, surveying her expression a moment, worry in her eyes. “Is that okay?”

“That would be amazing, Dani.” She exhaled, the knot in her chest easing slightly at the knowledge she wouldn’t be alone with her thoughts tonight.

“Good.” She chuckled sweetly, kissing her cheek.

“Hey, Ramirez.” Steve’s voice cut through the din, and Maggie and Dani turned to see both Natasha and Steve walking toward them. “We have to get going, a few more things to take care of before tomorrow.”

Maggie didn’t say anything, the knot in her chest constricting her lungs, rendering her speechless. _So they’re really going to do this._

“It was good to meet you, Steve.” Dani filled in when Maggie failed to respond. “And I’d like to hear more about your support group. Call me up when you get a chance,” She said, extending one of her business cards to Steve.

“Thanks,” Steve nodded, taking the card in hand.

_That ass hole. Playing like he doesn’t know that there might not be a tomorrow for him like he isn’t just about to break all the rules of time and space to attempt the impossible of all impossible tasks._

“MS. DANI!” One of the kids called, and Dani nodded with a light chuckle.

“Drive safe, Natasha, lovely to see you as always.” And without another word, Dani walked back to where the group was gathered, leaving Maggie, Steve, and Natasha alone.

“A couple things before we go,” Steve said, glancing over his shoulder at his motorcycle before he turned again to look at her. “I’d like to leave the bike with you. Is there someplace I can store it?”

_You don’t plan on coming back._

She’d known that from their conversation in the barn when he didn’t deny that the odds were long and that this was more a suicide mission than a rescue mission. But the confirmation still struck her hard.

“Yeah. Sure. There’s the machine shop. Follow me.” Maggie nodded, and she started walking without waiting for their responses.

Hauling open the doors and turning on the lights, Maggie waved Steve and Natasha inside, only momentarily contemplating shutting and locking the door with them inside. It would’ve been pointless, Steve was a superhuman, and Natasha was fast, agile, and stronger than Maggie could ever hope to be. Any physical altercation would ultimately end the same way.

“It’ll be safe here until you decide to come back for it,” Maggie said firmly as she watched Steve remove a cover from the saddlebag and cover the vintage Harley for storage.

_Riley would be fanboy-ing so hard, Captain America’s motorcycle in our machine shed._

Maggie might have been a little star-struck too if she wasn’t already filled with dread in anticipation of whatever _business they_ had left to complete with her before they went off on their suicide mission.

They both turned to face her, and Maggie braced, trying to prepare for whatever came next. “I brought some things, Natasha put them up in the house. They were Becca’s. She gave them to me before—I thought if anyone would appreciate them, it would be you. That you’d keep them safe,” Steve said, before he slowly removed a crumpled envelope from his back pocket and extended it to her. “Just in case.”

Maggie thought she was going to throw up. _You don’t plan on coming back._ She turned to Natasha, who likewise had an envelope clutched in her hand.

“No.” She said shortly. “Fuck you both. No. You’re not allowed to do this to me.” Maggie closed the garage door, placing herself between them and the only way in or out. Planting her feet firmly, she clenched her fists. “They’re dead. They’re dead, let them rest. Let them rest and stop this stupid, reckless, suicidal bullshit.” Tears choked her, and the words came out as half sobs. “ _Please._ I can’t lose you too. You have a life here; you have a chance here. Please. Goddamn it. Please. You don’t have to do this.”

Maggie knew her words were falling on deaf ears. They’d made up their minds. They were going through with their ridiculous, dangerous, hair-brained scheme, and they planned to either make it work or die trying. 

Still, Maggie knew she had to extend the offer, extend a hand to the drowning men, knowing how much stronger they were than her, knowing they could pull her in with them. She had to try to save them, at least one more time because otherwise, she’d regret it.

They didn’t say anything. What was there to say? But much to her surprise, Maggie found herself wrapped in Natasha’s arms. “I know.” Natasha murmured. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

“No. No. No!” She wailed, even as she tried to push away from the embrace. But she knew it was no use, and Maggie relented to the absolute anger and anguish that had been building inside of her.

Her knees buckled, and she found herself wrapped in yet another set of arms, Steve’s: strong and steady and unwavering.

_Whatever happens next, you’re going to be okay._

That’s what Bucky had told her, over five years ago now, in the hallway of the Wakandan Royal Palace before the battle, before the fight, before Thanos had snapped half of the entire universe’s population out of existence.

And Maggie had survived. And Maggie had struggled. And Maggie had rebuilt. And Maggie had learned to love, learned to heal, learned to grieve, learned to move on.

Yet still, now, she knew she’d failed because she couldn’t help two of the people nearest and dearest to both Sam and Bucky. She hadn’t been able to get Natasha and Steve to be okay with her.

And Maggie knew she could tell them that, but it wouldn’t matter, it wouldn’t change anything, they’d made up their minds, and once again, Maggie was going to have to standby and wait for whatever would come. And when it came, Maggie would be here to continue on, to continue to build, to continue to heal, and to continue to work at still being okay.

A numbness eventually passed over her, and the tears subsided, and it was only then that Steve and Natasha released her from their embrace. Wordlessly, she extended her hand, and they both placed their envelopes on her open palm. “For safekeeping.” She said, her voice hoarse.

“For safekeeping,” They both murmured in response.

Stowing them both away in her back pocket, Maggie reached up to hug first Steve and then Natasha before stepping back and opening the machine shop’s door. “Be safe. Both you.” She said before they could slip through the slim crack she’d opened.

“We’ll text you when we’re back,” Natasha assured her, giving her another quick hug and planting a single kiss on her cheek. “Make sure to lock up behind you.”

“I will.”

She walked through, leaving her and Steve alone. “Be safe.” Maggie said firmly. “And I’d say don’t do anything stupid, but I think we’re well past that.”

Steve nodded. “Everything’s going to be all right, Maggie.” He answered. “We’ll see each other soon. I promise.”

Maggie nodded, and Steve continued out of the shop door without another word.

She stayed still a long while, listening as Steve and Natasha got into their car and drove away before she got out her phone to text Dani. ‘Hey. I’m going back up to the house. I need a few minutes.’ She hit send before stowing her phone and wiping her face. “Fuck.” She whispered. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Then. Stepping out into the evening air, she locked the door to the machine shop and walked up to the house as fast as her legs would carry her.

Maggie was almost sprinting as she made it through the front door; tears still streaming down her face. She walked into the kitchen, where two white 15x12 archival boxes sat on the kitchen table.

With shaking hands, she opened the first box and had to clasp both hands on her mouth to stifle the sob that ripped from her chest when she saw what was on top.

There, framed under museum glass, was Bucky’s flag, folded in a triangle. In the box beside it, there was the framed condolence letter and the framed photo of Bucky and Becca sitting on their parent’s front porch.

She sucked in a shallow breath between her fingers, still clasped tight over her mouth. Her face hot, tears streaking her cheeks, her nose running as she desperately sniffled.

“Mi amor?” Maggie turned to see Dani standing in the doorway, worry, and concern etched in her features. “What’s wrong.”

“I couldn’t stop them. I tried. I tried to save them but—oh Dani I—” She collapsed into the other woman’s arms, as Dani crossed the room to pull her into them.

For long moments Maggie wept, feeling utterly helpless to explain what had happened. Besides, would Dani even believe her if she told her?

When the tears subsided, Dani fixed her a glass of water, setting it on the table in front of her. “Drink this.” 

Maggie drained the glass, which Dani refilled two more times as Maggie gulped down the cold fluid, feeling it pool in the bottom of her stomach. “Can I get an ice cube?” Maggie asked weakly.

Dani nodded in understanding and removed a single ice cube from the freezer, and dropped it in Maggie’s outstretched palm. Maggie held it tightly, pressing it against the soft skin of her forearm, focusing on the cold and the pain, trying to ground herself. As the ice cube melted away, and Maggie felt her pulse start to normalize, she looked up at Dani, who was still watching her, her eyebrows knit together.

“Dani—I,” Maggie said as she took in a shuddering breath.

Dani put her hand on Maggie’s, “In your own time. You don’t need to explain anything to me if you can’t right now.”

She shook her head, “No. This is important.” Maggie managed, taking another breath, a bit more control in her voice. “What would you do if everyone we lost in 2018 showed back up tomorrow?”

“What?” An array of emotions crossed her expression, not least of which was sheer bewilderment.

Maggie nodded. “That’s what they’re planning to do.”

“How?”

She sighed. “Buckle up. This is going to be a wild ride.”

It took Maggie close to an hour to be able to get through the whole thing, beginning to end. And Maggie told Daniella everything, not just the plan that Steve had laid out in the barn, but also Maggie’s whole part in the thing. It wasn’t a story that Maggie had ever told anyone in its entirety. Of course, she’d never lied to Daniella, and she knew who Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Bucky where, but how and why and in what ways the pieces fit together Maggie had never elaborated on them, and Daniella had never pushed.

When Maggie finally concluded, the house fell into total silence, and she braced, waiting for Dani to run from the house screaming. 

“Maybe it’s time for you to let them go, Mags,” Dani said slowly.

“What?” She stammered, doing a hard double-take.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been trying to get Natasha and Steve to come to the ranch and join you with no success. Yet you persisted and kept at it.” Dani paused, smiling gently, “It’s one of the things I love and admire about you.”

“Thanks?” Maggie managed with a watery chuckle.

“ _But_ I think in think that all of that stubborn, persistent, unrelenting desire to get them to come with you on this journey, you’ve ignored the fact that in many ways you lost not just Sam and Bucky to the snap, but Steve and Natasha too.” She took both of Maggie’s hands and looked at her squarely. “Maybe it’s time to let them go.”

Maggie exhaled slowly and nodded.

“You can’t save everyone, Mags. But you’ve saved a lot of us, and we’re grateful, and we’re here with you now.” Dani said firmly.

Maggie didn’t know what to say. What was there to say but that Dani was right? She couldn’t help but be reminded of what she’d told Steve what felt a lifetime ago when he’d come into her office and asked about her grandfather, asking about how she’d dealt with watching him die from Alzheimer’s. _You’re grieving for them before they’re gone._ She’d said, or said something similar that.

Was that what she’d been doing for Steve and Natasha since she’d left the compound? Perhaps. And maybe she was grieving for all of the what-ifs and what could’ve beens. But, it was also completely reasonable to be worried about her friends. Even if they won, how much would they lose if one of them died in the pursuit of this obscenely fragile chance at hope? What would happen if they all came back? Five years had passed, that wasn’t nothing. With this realization, something twisted in her stomach.

“And if those idiots manage to bring everyone back tomorrow?” Maggie asked uncertainly.

At this, Daniella paused, and she looked taken aback for the first time the whole conversation. “Are you asking if I’ll somehow stop loving you? Or that Alejandra and I will just pick back up where we left off five years ago?”

Maggie bowed her head. _Yeah,_ that was kinda what she’d asked, but the thought had plagued her mind since Steve had told her they were going to bring everybody back. There was so much that the snap had taken from them, but in the aftermath and in the work to rebuild, Maggie had gained so much. Was she afraid to lose it all, and have to rebuild yet again?

“I’m sorry. That was an unfair question,” Maggie shook her head. “I guess, if I’m letting Natasha and Steve go, I don’t want to have to let you go too.”

Dani sighed nodding. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I’m going to feel, and I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings. But, that really sounds like a conversation all of us will have to have if/when we reach that juncture.” She leaned forward and kissed Maggie’s forehead. “We’ll just have to face it together. Whatever comes next.”

“Whatever comes next.” Maggie agreed.

“Would you like my help sorting through all of this?” Daniella asked, motioning to the two archival boxes, still sitting on the table.

“I—” Maggie said slowly. “Would you like me to tell you about him? I mean. _More_ about him.”

“I would.” Dani nodded.

“I think this is going to require a bottle of wine and some music.”

“That sounds good.” Dani smiled, kissing her on the forehead.

“Hey, but before that.” Maggie caught Dani’s hand and pulled the other woman to her. “Thank you,” Maggie said, kissing her. “For everything.”

“Always,” She smiled, returning the kiss.

They worked through both boxes, finding frames and places for the photos and sketches, and newspaper clippings, placing Bucky’s flag and his photo with Becca on the mantlepiece beside Riley’s flag and the photo from the military ball of her, Sam and Riley.

They talked and laughed, and cried, and quickly polished off a bottle of wine as they talked of the before times, neither of them giving any more thought to what was going to happen in the morning, or what might happen should The Avengers fail, or even should they succeed.

And as Daniella dozed against Maggie in the early hours of the morning, wrapped in the Wakandan blanket, Maggie knew that whatever tomorrow brought, it was going to be difficult, but she wasn’t going to be alone. Whatever came next, she and Dani, and her kids, and her home, and her family, they were going to be okay. And she would do whatever it took to keep going because this was important. They were important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Full disclosure time. I ABSOLUTELY cried when I wrote this chapter. I’ve put Mags and the gang through the ringer. We’re about a third of the way through this too! (Which is crazy to me considering how long Pt III was). It’s going to be rough for a bit, but I promise, I promise it’s going to be alright in the end. Hang in there. I hope to hear what you think of this chapter, and I look forward to posting the next one soon! 
> 
> Stay safe out there, and until next time Happy Reading!


	5. A Fight for Love and Glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> Recommended Listening: Running up that Hill by Placebo; Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers; Get Lucky by Halestorm  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=Zt_O0cq1R9qrr-XmYA6qwQ

Maggie didn’t sleep. Comfortable though the couch might be and as enticing as Dani’s sleeping form resting on her lap was, Maggie had been utterly unable to get her brain to shut off.

So instead, she sat there and stayed perfectly still as not to disturb Dani and thought about the events of the day before, her gaze fixated on Bucky’s flag. It sat proudly on the mantle beside Riley’s flag. Photos and commendation letters, and other memorabilia were arranged around it. Tucked discreetly behind Bucky’s flag were the envelopes Natasha and Steve had given them.

 _Just for safekeeping. They’re coming back. They have to come back._ Maggie told herself over and over. But she knew, Maggie knew that they probably weren’t coming back and that she needed to focus on the process of letting them go.

Right now, it just hurt too much even to contemplate.

Beside her on the couch, to her left sat a medium, 8x7 archival box and two journals, well worn, one completely filled, the other well on its way there. They were the only contents from the boxes Steve had left her that Maggie had been unable to sort through.

She knew what was in the small box. Becca had shown her the contents way back in 2014, shortly after all of this began. The journals, however, Maggie had seen one of them, once, but never what was inside of them. They’d been something Bucky had lost, and now they’d found their way back to her, where she’d keep them safe.

From what and for whom Maggie didn’t know, but she knew that she couldn’t open the box or read the journals. It had been hard enough to look at the photographs, various combinations of Steve, Becca, and Bucky.

Perhaps hard wasn’t the right word. It had been neat to see them together, happy, smiling, so different from the versions she knew. It had made Maggie smile, thinking about the time she had spent with each of them and how she’d gotten to know them. Yet, it was a bittersweet kind of feeling associated with looking through the photos. 

Every single one of those people was gone. Sure, Steve wasn’t dead, not yet, but he wasn’t the same man in the photographs. It was a difficult thing to swallow, but it was true. Somehow, someway and at some point, something had broken Steve Roger’s spirit, and in its place, Captain America had risen to consume what remained.

Half the universe’s population just suddenly disappearing had taken something from all of them. That much was true. What had startled Maggie was the _depth_ of Steve and Natasha’s hurt and the lengths to which they were willing to go to alleviate that pain of the soul that the loss to Thanos had incurred.

 _Fuck, I’m going to have a lot to talk to Becky about the next time we get a chance to meet._ Maggie shook her head, her gaze focusing on the light outside, the cool bluish-grey tones of the pre-sunrise world.

It wouldn’t be too long now until they made the jump. Where they awake already getting ready? How long would the jump take? How long would it take for her to know if they’d succeeded? Would she ever know if they’d failed?

Maggie grimaced and sighed. She couldn’t think like that. She couldn’t think about _any_ of it if she wanted even the smallest chance that she might be able to get any work done around the place today.

“Hey Dani, baby. You’re going to have to move,” Maggie whispered as gently as she could manage.

“Hmmm,” Dani groaned, “five more minutes.”

“I’m going to make a pot of coffee and then get dressed, if you wanna go upstairs and climb into bed, you don’t have to stay down here.” She answered, kissing Dani’s temple before dislodging herself from under the woman’s head and shoulder.

Placing a pillow to support her neck and adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, Maggie gave Dani another kiss before moving to the kitchen to start her morning routine. Once the coffee was well on its way to brewing, Maggie circled back into the living room and collected the unopened box and journals from the couch where Dani still lay sleeping and headed upstairs to get changed.

Entering her bedroom, she placed the box and journals on top of her dresser, knowing that she’d likely file the journals away with the other she was holding onto from her time in Wakanda. Then, without too much more thought on the matter, Maggie started to get dressed, more by feel than by thought, pulling off the approximate night clothes she’d changed into the night before, tugging on her jeans, button-down shirt, and thick wool socks, while her trusty Wakandan boots downstairs waiting for her in the mudroom. It was only when she went to her drawer of scarves and neckerchiefs that she paused to take in what she was doing.

She still had all of her and Bucky’s old Wakandan scarves, and in the years since her departure from Wakanda, Maggie had woven herself a fair few more, though, without the proper Wakandan fibers, they didn’t have _all_ the same properties as the ones she’d bought while she was there. It had become a habit to wear one every day. They were lightweight sun protection, and a function layer rain or shine, wind or snow. Today her hands stopped over the brown and blue one she’d made for Bucky out of remnant fabric from the yardage he’d bought her. The one he’d been wearing the day their world had come crashing down.

Removing it from the drawer, she ran her fingers over the fabric. She hadn’t worn this one often. This one was special, sacred almost. It had been the scarf she would only select when she knew the day was going to be difficult. Perhaps she drew some kind of strength from the parallels, the symbolism all wrapped up in the scarf. Perhaps it made her feel that he was closer to her somehow, that by wearing his scarves, she was carrying a bit of him with her.

Maggie didn’t know. What she _did_ know was that today, it seemed, she was going to need a bit of Bucky’s strength and courage with her.

Rolling the scarf and securing it into a cowl, Maggie finished getting ready, and by the time she made it downstairs, Dani was shuffling around the kitchen.

“Coffee is up,” Dani motioned to Maggie’s usual mug sitting on the counter, wisps, and swirls of steam rising off the surface.

“Thank you.” She nodded appreciatively, taking the mug in both hands and inhaling.

“Did you get _any_ sleep last night?” Dani asked, it wasn’t critical or even lecturing, just heavy with knowing the answer before asking the question.

“I might have dozed off now and again, but my brain couldn’t shut down.”

“You could’ve woken me up.”

“Yes. But then it would’ve robbed me of watching you while you slept.”

“Creeper.” Dani teased, leaning down to kiss Maggie’s neck.

“I mean, am I sneaking into your bedroom in the middle of the night?” She protested.

“No. no, you’re not.” Dani chuckled, but then stopped as Maggie removed her phone from her pocket and set it out on the counter, face up. “When?”

“0800.”

“And they’d said they’d let you know when they made it back?” Dani continued apprehensively.

“That’s what they said,” Maggie answered flatly, before taking a sip of her coffee.

“Could we just cancel everything for the day and stay in bed?” She suggested.

Maggie's stomach clenched. _God of all days to hear her say that. It feels like it’s happening again._ “Perhaps, that would be the most sensible. But I would still have to spend some time outside fussing with the animals and getting them out for the day. Plus, I’d hate for the kids not to have a place to go this afternoon.”

Dani nodded, “And what about _your_ kids? And Suzanne and Bill and Mike? And James and Mitchel? Don’t they deserve to know what’s going on? What might possibly happen?”

Maggie exhaled. _Fuck._ She’d been trying to avoid this, trying to find a way to deal with the eventuality that this was all getting ready to be very, very, _very_ complicated if friends, family, and parents just popped back into existence. “ _Should_ I call a family meeting?”

“Might not be the worst idea.” She shrugged. “You have a couple of hours before they’re going to make the jump. Who knows how long it’s going to be before you hear anything. You have time to make a decision.”

“Fair. I guess I should jump on the morning chores for the day.”

“Breakfast first, Mi Amor.”

“Breakfast after chores, doll.” She answered.

Quickly kissing Dani, Maggie downed the rest of her coffee and put her phone in her pocket, before she tugged on her Wakandan boots in the mudroom and headed out the door.

Maggie emerged outside in the early morning air and breathed in the wet smell of early spring. The fog clung close to the ground, the grass damp with dew.

The animals were glad to see her, or at least they were appreciative of the notion of not being in their stalls soon and the promise of food. Passing each of them, she stopped outside of stall ten, where Ghost was waiting for her.

“Good morning there, old guy.” She greeted the grey speckled stallion. “How we doing, bud?”

The horse snorted in response.

“Yeah, I hear you. You ready for our morning ride?” Maggie asked, opening the stall and hooking up the horse's harness to the lead she’d grabbed on her way in the barn.

How far they’d come since the first time they’d met. She’d been barely able to touch him, never mind contemplating riding him. Yet, their time together had proved useful, and when she’d returned and purchased him back from Suzanne, Maggie had been able to focus on breaking him and using him as a workhorse. Now, every morning they rode around the property line to check the fences before they let the animals out in the pasture for the day.

She saddled him, the Wakandan leather saddle supple under her hands, and she moved with familiarly and purpose, checking the straps of the tack to ensure they were all in working order. Then, leading him out to the pasture, through the open gates, she started her morning ride.

These morning rides were always good. They gave her mind a chance to think through the day’s tasks and clear her head so that she could be on her game for the rest of it. Yet today, her thoughts were murky and as thick and clouded as the low lying fog.

 _I should’ve stayed in bed._ The thought came to her as she worked Ghost to a brisk trot.

_I should’ve stayed in bed liked he asked me to._

On days like today, she couldn’t help but be reminded of that last morning they’d had together—that last moment of normalcy. Only today, Maggie couldn’t help but wonder, what would she get back today if they succeeded? What might she lose?

Only time would tell.

Returning to the barn after a successful perimeter patrol, Maggie continued with her chores: First, she milked and fed the cows. Then fed the rest of the menagerie of animals she’d collected before she got them all out to the pasture for the day. After that, she mucked out the stalls and, collecting the eggs from the empty roosts, and the milk that she’d gotten from the cows, returned to the house.

By the time she’d make it back inside, it was nearly 9:00 a.m. Dani had decided to start making breakfast, and big band music was playing softly over the wireless speakers around the downstairs.

“Decided omelets sounded good today, and thought the music would help us think happy thoughts. I know it’s some of your favorites.” Dani called over her shoulder while Maggie washed up in the mudroom.

“Very thoughtful of you.” She replied. “Thank you.”

“No word?”

“No.” Maggie exhaled sharply as she set the eggs and milk on the counter. “Anything I can help with?”

“Other than putting those away?” Dani inquired, eyeing the fresh produce uncertainly.

“Yeah?”

“Unclinch your jaw and take a deep breath, love.”

“Right that.” She chuckled. “I take your point.”

Maggie processed and put away the milk and eggs into the secondary fridge out in the mudroom, while Dani finished breakfast. They ate leisurely, talking about Maggie’s plans for the rest of the day and what projects she had lined up for the after-school kids' program in the afternoon. All the while, Maggie kept anxiously checking her phone as the hour passed, and it approached 10:30.

“Come on. Let’s dance.” Dani announced abruptly, grabbing her hand and practically dragging her away from the kitchen island where they’d been seated.

“What?” Maggie stammered.

“That’s something you said you and Bucky used to do. So show me.” Dani explained.

Overhead, Maggie could hear Unchained Melody playing over the speakers. “I didn’t realize we needed to take pottery classes too, Daniella.” Maggie managed with a weak chuckle.

“Oh, hush. Show me. I’ve always wanted to learn.” Dani shook her head. “And anyway, I’m allowed at least one trashy romance movie from the 90s.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll give you that.” She smiled, taking Dani's right hand in her left, positions her right hand on Dani’s waist. Dani took the cue and put her hand on Maggie’s right shoulder.

“So you’re leading?”

“I am.” Maggie agreed. “You’ll step to the right, and follow my direction.”

It was a disaster, and they tripped over one another, laughing as they did. “This would be easier if the ghost of Patrick Swayze possessed me,” Dani paused, thoughtfully. “Or maybe Bucky.”

“No, my sweet Daniella. You can step on my toes all you’d like. I wouldn’t take you any other way.” She grinned, reaching up to plant a soft kiss on the other woman’s lips.

“Okay, okay, you big cheesy monster. Let’s go again.” Dani chuckled, and they started again, smiling and laughing at one another.

Then. They both stopped, pulled out of their warm, fuzzy feelings by the sound of her phone buzzing on the countertop.

Dani turned off the music as Maggie scrabbled to the phone, Steve picture flashing on the screen. “Hello? Steve?” She stammered out, ramming the phone against her ear.

“Maggie.” Steve began, his voice low and choked.

_Fuck_

Immediately Maggie’s stomach turn, her lungs constricting. “I’m here, Steve.” She answered.

“We got the stones.” There was a long pause before he finished his statement. “Nat didn’t make it.”

Maggie exhaled a shaking breath, “I’m—I’m going to head that way, you don’t—”

“We have a few things to do before we can bring everyone back.” He said, cutting her off. “I’ll call you when we’re done.” Then Steve paused.

 _You were right._ Maggie was almost sure he was going to say it, but he didn’t, silence filling the line, buzzing slightly with shaking breath.

“We’ll talk soon. Be safe.” She eventually managed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. We’ll talk soon.” And with that, He hung up.

Maggie set the phone down purposefully as she tried to absorb what she’d just heard. Dani came to her side, wordlessly. “Natasha’s gone. They got the stones. They’re going to bring everyone back.”

Maggie took a deep breath. It was 10:35. _Fuck._ She wanted to rage and scream and cry. _Why hadn’t they listened? Why hadn’t this been enough? Why couldn’t they just move on rather than doing something so stupid?_

But it was too late for that now. No amount of raging against the unfairness of the universe would change what had happened to Natasha. There would be time later to grieve, to be angry, to process the great chasm of loss and agony she was starting to feel open in the pit of her stomach.

_Just breathe. Take this one breath at a time, one step at a time, until you don’t have to remind yourself anymore. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to make sure everyone is okay._

Her mind turned to the first part of Steve’s message. They had the stones. They were going to bring everyone back.

How long would it take them to bring everyone back? How would they know? Would everyone return where they had disappeared? How did the Avengers plan to handle the sudden influx of population? What would happen to those who’s family had moved on or moved away?

 _Fuck_. This was all about to get very complicated. But she wasn’t alone. She had a team. She had her family, her partner, her kids, her volunteers—well friends, they were well beyond volunteers now. Family by bond, not by blood. They would come when she called, and together they’d figure this whole thing out.

“Family meeting. Let’s send out the call.” Maggie said shortly.

Dani nodded firmly, and they worked in silence for a few long moments as they sent out the texts to the appropriate people. ‘Family meeting @ Ranch, ASAP.’

Which meant they had a few hours before people could disentangle themselves and get to the ranch, but that would be enough time for Maggie to figure out what she was going to say and what appropriate steps they would all need to take to prepare what was headed their way.

After the texts went out, Maggie sunk down on the couch, the exhaustion of her sleepless night bearing down heavy on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Dani said gently as she sat down beside her, slipping her hand into Maggie’s.

“Yeah. Me too.” Maggie nodded, feeling surprisingly numb about the whole thing.

Natasha’s death would hit her eventually, and she would grieve and mourn and feel the pain of loss that was right and proper for someone who had loomed so large in her life for the last nine years. But right now, she had a job to do. It would do no one any good to linger on what she couldn’t change. It’s what Natasha would’ve expected from her at any rate. “The world is about to get over 3.5 billion people dropped back into existence. No one is prepared to handle that.” She paused, taking a measured breath. “We’re going to have to make sure that _our_ people are somewhat prepared to handle that.”

“Everything’s going to be different after this, isn’t it?”

Maggie paused, turning her head to look at Dani squarely. Dani was watching her closely; her eyes brimming with tears that wouldn’t fall. “It is. And it’s scary, isn’t it?”

Dani nodded.

“Thank you. For being here with me, for standing with me, for helping me.” Maggie said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “And as much as the world is going to change, nothing could change how I feel about you. I love you, and we’ll figure it out.”

Dani nodded again, and there was a long pause as they pressed their foreheads together, breathing slowly. “You’re my hero. You know that, right?” She whispered after a moment.

“No. You’re mine.” Maggie answered.

They both chuckled gently. Embracing and holding each other tightly, Maggie tried not to think of all of the what-ifs and instead focus only on the next step. What was going to happen next?

Eventually, they broke apart, and Maggie removed her journal from between the couch cushion and frame and started to write.

A little while later, text messages began to return, giving ETAs and 10-4s, and Maggie felt like she could breathe, knowing that by 1:00 p.m., she would have her team assembled, and then could start to implement some kind of plan.

This was, of course, after she told them what the _hell_ was going on.

At 11:30, Maggie got off the couch to make lunch, and at noon Suzanne was the first person to arrive. “Kid. What the hell is going on?” She asked, hugging Maggie tightly as she walked through the door. “You look like shit,” Suzanne added as they pulled apart.

“It’s been a hell of a day. Would you like some calabacita, rice, and beans while we wait for the others?” Maggie answered.

Suzanne didn’t press, but gladly accepted a plate and sat down. Soon enough, others started to trickle in. James and Mike came next, followed by Bill. Then Bianca and Sara arrived, Ava Maria at preschool, trailed by Mitchel and Diego. Alecia brought up the tail end, and by 1:30, they were all sitting around the table, eating in silence, waiting for Maggie to speak.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice. But I have some news that I felt would be best shared as a team…as a family.” Maggie began slowly.

There was a collective intake of breath in anticipation, and Maggie glanced at Dani, who nodded firmly. “At 10:30, I received word that the Avengers have found a way to reverse what happened five years ago, and bring back everyone we lost.”

There was a burst of noise as everyone began talking all at once. Maggie rose to her feet, her chair scraping the floor, and the room fell silent again. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions and feelings on what this means, for us, and the world. I have a lot of questions too, and not a lot of answers. I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but I do know that it _is_ going to happen and that when it does, we need to be ready for it.”

“That’s a lot of people, Boss,” Bill said flatly.

“It is. And I know we’re only a few people, but if chaos is about to be unleashed on the world, we need to find a way to bring order to our little corner of it. And I know that we can do that if we work together as a team and look out for one another, just as we have over the past few years.” Maggie glanced around the table, trying to organize her thoughts, a round of nods from the assembled group in silent consent to take part in whatever role she needed them to fill.

“Suzanne, you’re on animals, livestock, and farmer duty. Check-in on your old patient list, and be prepared to shuffle animals around.” Suzanne nodded firmly, and so Maggie continued. “Bill and Mitchel, You’re going to need to get out on the horn and try to contact as many people from the former Last Chance Ranch community volunteers and clients, and make sure they know what’s going on.”

“What about me, boss?” Mike cut in.

“Mike, you have to let the group home know what’s getting ready to hit them. Parents are going to be looking for kids, and kids looking for parents. This is going to be a bureaucratic nightmare but make sure you know where everyone came from and ended up so that you can put them into contact with parents/relatives/guardians—”

“I can help with that,” Dani interjected before Maggie could finish.

Maggie shook her head, “No. Dani, James, you both lost partners. Your only job is to find them, hug them, and make sure they know they’re still loved and that everything is going to be okay.”

Dani and James both nodded, glancing at one another and then back up at her.

 _Well, I can’t just leave it there. I have to finish it off with something._ Maggie reached for the right words. What the fuck could she say? She was scared, sad, excited, happy, concerned, freaked out, frantic, and utterly unsure of how the hell they were going to deal with this. But as she glanced around at the faces sitting in her kitchen, looking at her for guidance, for friendship, for assurance, for leadership, Maggie knew that she was going to have to keep it together so that they could all move through this together, as a team. 

“Five years ago, the world, our world, and our way of life as we knew it changed forever. We lost people a lot of people: friends, partners, parents, family members, loved ones, and strangers who made up our world in ways we could barely comprehend. And we were all left wondering, why me? Why did I survive? How do we move on from something this horrible? Yet, despite the tremendous loss, and despite everything we had to overcome, we rebuilt, we moved on, and healed. Now, all these people we’ve been grieving for and missing, and learning to live without are going to be back, and they’re going to find that the world has changed and that we have changed in ways that nobody can comprehend.” Maggie paused, glancing at Dani, then at her kids, and then at the rest of her family, Suzanne, Bill, Mitchel, Mike, and James. “You helped me make this place a home when the world was in chaos. And now, we’re going to have to help those we lost who’s just come back to us find their way back home in this new world we’ve made, together.”

Maggie paused, “I love you all, and no matter what happens next, we’re going to be okay.”

There was a collective nod from the group, and they all glanced around at each other, none of them really knowing what to say next.

 _‘This is all a fucking mess.’_ Was really what Maggie wanted to say. But that wouldn’t be helpful to anyone, and she could only hope that what she’d just uttered made a lick of sense at all and had eased some worry and fear and confusion.

“That’s a good speech, boss,” Bill commented blandly, in the way he did when he was trying to play something down. “You write that down first, or did was that just off the top of your head?”

“We all know you’re the queen of canned speeches, Ramirez.” James joined in.

Maggie laughed, shaking her head. “You’re not going to give me an inch on that, are you?”

“Absolutely not.” Bill shook his head, and just like that, it felt like the spell was broken. The tension dissipated, and whatever horrors they thought might happen or occur seemed so far away as compared to only moments ago.

“Guys?”

There was an edge now to James’s voice. Turning, Maggie found him with his phone was out, a picture of Steph on the screen as it buzzed. “Take the call, James.” She urged.

He nodded, clicking accept, lifted the phone to his ear. “Steph? Baby?”

There was a brief pause before a voice spoke from the other end of the line. Everyone in the room was holding their breath. “No. No. Steph, baby. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you. Molly and I are fine. Okay. Okay. Give me about thirty minutes, and I’ll be right there.” James glanced up at her, there were tears in his eyes, and he nodded, rising and walking from the house.

Silence descended over the group, and once again, all eyes went to her, “All right people. You have your objectives. I’ll be here to take your calls and try to figure out resources for people in need as it becomes necessary.” She paused, “Good luck.”

“You too.”

Mike, Bill, Suzanne, and Mitchel all hugged her, and one by one, they filed from the kitchen. Dani had disappeared outside after James, and turning Maggie found that Bianca, Diego, Sara, and Alecia were all sitting there watching her.

“You didn’t give us a job,” Sara said flatly.

“Oh. So I didn’t.” Maggie paused. “What do you want to do?” She glanced around at the group.

“We don’t have anyone that’ll be coming back for us,” Alecia said flatly. “But you do.” She glanced over her shoulder at the Ofrenda, just in view through the passage between the kitchen and the living room. “Don’t you want to find them, hug them, and make sure they know they’re still loved and that everything is going to be okay?”

Maggie opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by Dani, who charged in, her face pale. “You should turn on the TV. Something’s going on.”

They clambered from the kitchen table into the living room. Bianca turned on the television, while Diego, Sara, and Alecia opened their phones, looking for the latest update.

“Breaking news: There appears to be an extraterrestrial craft hovering over once was the sight of the Avenger compound, which as our aerial footage shows, has been completely destroyed.” The reporter announced on the television screen.

Maggie stared, slack-jawed, her whole body going numb as she sunk down on the couch. “What the fuck just happened?” She whispered.

“You should go, Mags.”

She turned to see Dani still standing behind her. Phone in hand, along with her purse and keys. “No. I need to stay here. You go to Alejandra. I’m sure she’s scared and confused, and she needs you. I’m where I need to be.”

“She’s right, mom.” Maggie turned to see Bianca watching her. “ And so’s Alecia.”

“I can’t leave you guys right now, with all this shit going on.” Maggie shook her head. “I have a responsibility to be here with you all.”

“Do you remember that first night I spent here in this house with you?” Bianca asked.

All eyes went from Bianca to her then back to Bianca, a breathless silence growing in the space around them. “When I cried all night with a newborn, in this big empty house, do you remember what you said?”

Maggie stared blankly, all eyes on her now as she struggled to remember.

“You didn’t say shit. Because you were there with me: prepping bottles, changing diapers, singing to a colicky baby and her frightened mother.” 

“I just—”

“Did what needed to be done? No one had ever done that for us. You were there for us. Even though life had taught us everyone would let us down, you never did. And now we’re not going to let you down either.” There was another pause before Bianca spoke again. “Go to them. We’re going to be okay.”

Maggie glanced over at Dani, who nodded.

“Text me when you make it to Alejandra. I love you.” Maggie said.

“I love you too, Magdalene.”

When Dani had gone, she looked around at her kids, who were still leveling firm but pointed glares at her. “I can’t go charging into that, you guys.” Maggie motioned to the TV screen where there was live footage of the massive alien space ship hovering over the smoldering mound where the compound used to be. “They’re not just going to let random civilians near a battlefield.”

“You might not be able to, but I can,” Alecia interjected, looking at her phone. “I’ve been put on standby and told to be ready to head that way as soon as I’m called.” She glanced up, making eye contact with her. “I can get you there.”

“And I’m going with you,” Diego said firmly. “Bianca, you’re going to have to get Ava from daycare. Sara, stay here by the phone, hold down the fort, and forward all messages you get to mom and me.” He instructed, and the kids all nodded, and all started toward their assigned tasks. Maggie was frozen in place. They stopped, “You okay?” Diego asked.

“I never thought in a million years I’d get the chance at a family like this,” Maggie admitted slowly. “And as shitty as the past five years have been for a million reasons, I would do it all over again just to have the opportunity to have you in my life.” She said, near tears.

“We love you too,” Sara said, before they all went in for a hug, practically crushing her in their collective embrace.

They held one another for a long moment until Alicia's voice cut in flatly, “guys, not to be the unemotional one, but we gotta go. We’re on the clock.”

“Right. Everyone has jobs now. Keep in contact.” Maggie nodded, wiping her face, as they all stepped away.

“Diego. You’re driving. Stay behind me, and follow my lead. Mom, Do you have coordinates.”

“I do.” Maggie answered, “texting them to you now.”

There was a quick flurry of action as she grabbed the ranch’s medical supplies, and first aid kit, and her satchel, before they headed out the door. Climbing into the passenger’s seat of Diego’s CJ7 Laredo Jeep, Maggie watched as Alecia climbed into her ambulance. Diego turned his radio to the same frequency as the emergency dispatch so they could hear the chatter from first responders. Then waving to Alecia, they started off.

The wind roared around them, and the radio chatter was spotty and inconclusive. Whatever the hell was going on at the Avengers Compound, or what had once been the Avengers Compound, was massive and devastating, and Maggie had serious doubts that she would be able to get close enough to see what was going on, never mind actually find Steve in all of this mess.

“Well, this isn’t what I expected to be doing today,” Diego called over the wind and the radio.

“Me, either.” Maggie let out a short laugh, unsure if she was excited or scared, happy or sad, exhilarated, or just outright exhausted.

“Who do you think we’re going to find?”

Maggie shook her head. “I don’t know. At this point, it’s anyone’s guess.” The outcome of this journey to the compound was as inconclusive as just about everything else about the day. Where had everyone who’d been brought back end up? What the hell did the extraterrestrial space ship have to do with any of this? “I guess we’ll have to find Steve. Don’t know where anyone else might have ended up.”

“You mean Bucky and Sam,” Diego said pointedly. “Do you think they’re going to be in Wakanda still?”

“No clue, kiddo.” She answered grimly.

“Alecia and I will get you there,” Diego said. At this, he chuckled, “You got us through grade school, we can get you back to your cyborg dead but maybe not dead boyfriend.”

“God, you’re still a little shit, you know that?”

“And you can’t even disown us.” He laughed.

“I wouldn’t _dream_ of it. It’s part of your charm.” Maggie grinned, “It only seems fair, considering the nonsense I got up to when I was your age.”

“Mom, you’re _still_ getting into nonsense,” Diego said, motioning around them vaguely.

“Okay, okay, that’s true,” She agreed.

Maggie sighed, trying her best not to think of the worst-case scenario. Yet, her brain kept reverting to all of its old tricks and habits. The worst had happened, Steve and the others were dead, and they’d done all of that for nothing.

_Would you stop thinking like that?_

_The Avengers Compound is nothing but a huge fucking crater. What the hell else am I supposed to think?_

“Mom?”

Maggie looked at Diego and then followed his eye-line to the massive column of smoke rising out of the landscape. “You both seeing this, right? Over.” Alecia’s voice crackled over the radio.

“10-4. We’re seeing this. Over.” Diego answered.

“I assume that’s our coordinates. Over.”

Diego looked over at her, and Maggie nodded, swallowing hard. “10-4, Sis. Over.”

“10-23, stay close. Will advise as we approach. 10-10.”

“10-10.”

They stayed silent as they approached. Maggie could hardly breathe, Diego’s jaw was set in firm determination and focus as they watched as Alecia’s vehicle in front of them. When they arrived at the main road just outside of what had once been the Avengers Compound, there was already a blockade of local fire and law enforcement, along with sleek looking black suburban and other official-looking vehicles.

Alecia’s ambulance stopped and there was a brief exchange just out of earshot before she was waved through. Maggie braced, waiting for them to be stopped, but to her surprise, the police waved her through, allowing them past the blockade.

Whatever Alecia had said to them must’ve been very convincing. One of their largest hurdles overcome, Maggie and Diego turned their eyes back to the road that curled up toward where the Avengers Compound had once been.

The green and gently rolling hills that had surrounded the compound were gone, charred and burned, the earth turned up, the sprawling campus reduced to rubble. Diego focused on the path up ahead of them, the crackle of the radio, and the low humming sound of a crowd some distance away.

Friend or foe? Maggie didn’t know. But as they slowly crept over the charred landscape, Maggie’s stomach churned and bubbled.

They stopped as they came to a whole legion of first response vehicles. Throwing the Jeep into park and killing the engine, Diego grabbed their first aid kit from the back as Mags climbed from the Jeep. Alecia emerged from the back of the ambulance, fully geared up, and ready to go, “What did you tell the officer at the blockade?” Maggie asked as they started walking toward the center of the activity.

“That the man driving was a volunteer firefighter and that you were a retired healthcare professional.” Alecia shrugged. “Not _entirely_ a lie.”

“No. Not exactly.” Maggie agreed slowly, glancing between Alecia and Diego, trying to come up with some sort of remark about the kind of children she’d raised, but before she could manage it, her brain latched onto a voice. Or rather, a set of voices.

_It can’t be._

Maggie charged on, Alecia and Diego following after her, her mind focused around the set of voices as she pushed past others that were gathered around until she found what she was looking for, or rather whom.

There in the middle of it all was none other than Samuel Wilson and the Princess Shuri. They were organizing the paramedics and other first responders, Sam in charge of the American teams while The Princess gave instruction in Wakandan to what Maggie could only deduce were other Wakandans.

The princess spotted her first, and when they made eye contact, Maggie nodded respectfully, which The Princess returned in acknowledgment before nudging Sam and motioning to her.

Sam’s gaze scanned the crowd and paused only a moment before he moved through the group, starting purposefully toward her.

_How is he here? He’s really here?_

Her brain short-circuited, and she found herself rooted to the spot as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing. Sam reached her and pulled her into a hug, which she returned, squeezing him as tight as she could physically manage, as if afraid he might slip through her grasp if she did any less. “Sammie?” She stammered.

“I’m here, Mags. I’m here.” He soothed. Sam paused as he pulled back from the embrace to survey her. “What are _you_ doing here, Mags?”

“We came to find Steve. Didn’t know you were here too.” She admitted. “Is he—” Maggie couldn’t finish her thought.

“He’s fine. He needs a once over and some first aid, but he’s fine. Barnes should be around here too,” Sam said. “He’s also okay.” He added kindly.

Her heart leaped. But of course, if Sam was here, Bucky would be here too. “These two with you?” Sam asked, glancing over her shoulder at Alecia and Diego, who watched the scene a respectful distance away.

“Yeah.” Alecia nodded.

“We’re her kids. Well. Two of them anyway.”

“Kids, huh.” Sam glanced at her with a curious, but also mischievous expression. He quickly turned his attention Alecia, “You paramedic certified?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s your name?”

“Alecia.”

“All right. Alecia, you, Ramirez, and him.” Sam motioned to Diego. “Need to find Cap' and administer first aid. He’s probably near the epicenter of all this, don’t take no for an answer.”

Alecia nodded firmly, adjusting her pack. “Well, come on, you heard the man.”

Maggie glanced at Sam, who winked, “you and I are going to have a talk later, Samuel Wilson.” She said as she started after Alecia.

“I don’t doubt.” He called after.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long to locate Steve, who, as Sam had said, was in the middle of the mess. He and King T’Challa were issuing orders and directing workflow, back to back and simultaneously.

“Captain Steven Rogers?” Alecia began, drawing the gazes of both Steve and the King.

“Yes-yes?” He stammered.

“I understand you are in need of some medical attention,” She continued, her tone all business as she approached. “Now, if I could just have you take a seat for me.” She said, taking him by the elbow and leading him firmly to a pile of rubble a few feet away. “I just need to evaluate your wounds and apply the proper field treatment until we can get you a proper treatment facility.”

And to Maggie’s surprise, Steve didn’t resist.

 _Well, she didn’t learn that from me._ There probably would’ve been more kicking and screaming if she had been the one trying to get Steve to cooperate, but there you had it, some people just had the knack.

“Are these your children, Cowgirl?” She turned to see T’Challa standing beside her, watching the scene unfold.

“Some of them,” Maggie answered. “It is good to see you, your highness.”

T’Challa nodded in return before he resumed directing and managing whatever it was they were managing. “So, you _actually_ knew the king of Wakanda?” Diego muttered.

“What you thought I was lying?” Maggie laughed as they both approached where Alecia was giving Steve a once over.

“I dunno. I thought that photo was like, a photo op from like ComicCon or something.” Diego answered.

“Nope. I’ll have to tell you about it sometime.” Maggie chuckled, shaking her head. “Hello, Steve.”

“Ramirez.” Steve nodded, glancing between her Alecia, and Diego. “These your kids?”

“Some of them.” Diego supplied. “I’m Diego. That’s Alecia. There are three more at home.”

“Which you would know if you’d ever accepted our mother’s dinner invitations over the last three and a half years,” Alecia said as she pressed a large wad of gauze against Steve’s gaping forearm wound.

“A pleasure to meet you both.” Steve winced, turning his head, he glanced up at her, and then over her shoulder past her.

Pausing, Maggie turned to follow Steve’s gaze. And there he was, Bucky Barnes, standing there a few yards away, looking just as he had all those years ago.

Yet for all the fantasies she’d had about running to him to be held in his embrace as he whispered sweet nothings in her ears, Maggie knew this wasn’t the time or place. This was a battlefield. People were dead, dying, or wounded. And somehow, despite herself, she maintained composure, trying to absorb every detail about this moment for later, but something, in particular, caught her eye, and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “So, you decided to put your hair up after all.” Maggie managed.

Bucky paused, a quick smirk passing over his expression before he nodded, “You were right.” He said, closing the gap between them.

Stopping short, Bucky removed the hair tie and extended it to her in his open palm, his bright eyes surveying her carefully as if waiting for something.

Did he know how long it had been? Was he expecting some sort of dramatic proclamation of love or something? Maggie didn’t know, but unless she’d totally misread him during their time in Wakanda, that didn’t seem like his type of thing.

Slowly, with both hands, she reached out to take the hair tie, her hands clasping around his right hand. Maggie kept her gaze focused down on their hands, trying her hardest to ignore the tears tugging just behind her eyes as she blinked to keep them at bay.

Taking the tie, she slipped the elastic band over her wrist and pulled her hands away, clasping them together, before she dared look back up into his eyes. “Hi.” He said.

“Hi.” She breathed.

Wasn’t exactly sonnets, but her brain was short-circuiting as it was. With a firm nod, Bucky turned to address Steve, “They’re ready to move Stark’s body. They wanted you and the King there.” He explained shortly.

“Stark?”

“Didn’t make it,” Steve interjected, glancing at Alecia. “Miss Ramirez. I appreciate—”

“Sam Wilson Gave me permission to inflict bodily harm—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bucky hesitated before he added, “Miss. Ramirez?” He glanced over at her.

Well, not exactly how she’d expected to break the news. “Bucky,” Maggie began with a deep breath before she charged on, “I’d like you to meet Alecia and Diego Ramirez, Kids, this is Bucky Barnes.”

“Kids?”

“Some of us,” Diego said.

“Started a farm, adopted some kids, you know your basic end of the world, apocalyptic, half the world population just up and vanished SOP.” She paused, giving him a once over. He didn’t appear completely mortified, but then again, it had been a bit since she’d last analyzed his facial expressions. “It’s a long story.” She added.

Bucky nodded but said nothing.

Not that she blamed him. She was sure this was all overwhelming. After all, it had been five years, and she even though she'd lived it chronologically, there was still a lot of she couldn’t quite believe. She could only imagine what he might be thinking.

“I need to go,” Steve interjected.

“Well, I’m not done with you yet.” Alecia countered.

“I—”

“You’ll come with us,” Bucky said, intervening before an argument could ensue.

“And we’re going with —” Maggie began before she cut off by Diego.

“Mom, Sara just texted me. I think we should get back to the ranch.” He said.

_Fuck._

But of course, she had told the team that she would be there to answer questions and hold down the fort. In truth, she really wasn’t needed here, and as much as she wanted to be here, she was in the way more than actually helping.

She’d seen Sam, Steve, and Bucky. She could go home, hold down the fort, and knowing that they were safe enough for the time being, and she’d get her chance to see them again, hopefully, soon.

“I’ll make sure to get all three of them home,” Alecia said.

“We’ll come find you after, I promise,” Bucky assured her.

Maggie nodded firmly. It wasn’t fair, she wanted to scream, but they both had a job to do. There would be time for them later. There _would_ be a later, now. Later hadn’t even been an option this morning, and certainly not over the past five years. Yet, still, she hesitated. Was it fear or selfishness that kept her from immediately jumping into action? Maggie didn’t know.

“Go. We’ll be all right.” Bucky urged softly.

Again, Maggie nodded, and without a word, she and Diego started picking their way through the smoldering wreckage of the compound, back the way they’d come. Pausing only a moment, Maggie glanced over her shoulder to take in the scene. Alecia was packing up her supplies while talking very firmly and steadily to Steve. Steve nodded along to her instructions, keeping pressure on his wound. Bucky was watching her as she went. His gaze was firm and steady, his hair hanging limply around his face.

Maggie wanted to run back and hug him, but before she could convince herself, Steve staggered to his feet, and Bucky turned to help Alecia with her medical pack.

_There’ll be time for us later._

And turning back, followed behind Diego.

They wove through the crowds, which were thinning now, following the sound of Sam’s voice. When they reached the staging area, they quickly explained the situation before Maggie quickly snagged another hug from Sam.

After strong assurance from Sam that he, Bucky, and Steve would be by later after they’d sorted all of this mess out, Maggie and Diego climbed back into the Jeep and started back home.

Maggie spent the ride texting back and forth with various team members, trying to orchestrate supplies and resources for all the people who’d just shown back up.

It was 5:30 p.m. by the time they made it back to the house. Sara, Bianca, and Ava-Maria were waiting for them, all of them looking exhausted and overwhelmed.

Giving them quick hugs, Maggie took over answering phone calls. The massive binder she’d compiled over the years with resources, and organizations, and contacts spread open across the dining room tables as she orchestrated community relief and outreach.

Around 8:30, Maggie looked down to see a plate of calibasita at her elbow accompanied by a sticky note, explaining that evening chores had been taken care of and that everyone would be staying the night. Doubling up, of course, to facilitate the incoming guests.

Around 9:45, the phone stopped ringing, and Maggie was able to eat dinner while she tried to catch her breath.

Her mind was humming, vibrating practically, like a plucked guitar string, strumming out a discordant note.

Natasha and Stark were dead, and over 3.5 billion people had just popped back into existence.

_God, Nat._

Maggie allowed herself to truly feel that loss for the first time, and putting both her elbows on the table, buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook as tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t sob, didn’t cry out, just wept, silently wondering what she could’ve done differently to save her, what could’ve possibly prevented her death.

She wanted to talk to Dani. Dani would know what to say, but she was busy with Alejandra, and Maggie wouldn’t interfere with their reunion. Dani deserved time with Alejandra. 

Then, gentle hands draped a blanket over her shoulders, and she looked up to see Sara standing over her, still holding the edges of the Wakandan blanket. “Come over to the couch, mom. You’ve had a long day.”

Maggie turned to see Bianca, Diego, and Ava-Maria looking at her over the back of the couch. Nodding, she rose and walked over to the couch, sinking down between Diego and Bianca. Sara then sat down beside Bianca on the opposite side while Ava-Maria climbed up in her lap, laying her head on Maggie’s chest.

As they settled into the couch, there was a collective sigh, and the tension that had been mounting all day was released simultaneously.

“Let’s turn on a movie while we wait,” Bianca suggested. She paused, glancing over at maggie. “What’s that old one you always put on?”

“Casablanca?” Maggie raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. That one. Put that one on.” Diego agreed.

“You don’t have to watch weird old movies on my account, guys, we could put something drastically less antique on.” She protested weakly.

“You’ve had a rough day, we all know that’s your comfort movie. Come on.” Bianca ribbed gently.

“It’s decided.” Sara concurred. Grabbing the remote, she turned on the TV and queued up the film before dimming the lights.

The Warner brother’s logo appeared, and the tinny soundtrack started to play, followed by the black and white map of the world. “With the coming of the Second World War, the eyes of imprisoned Europe’s turned hopefully or desperately to the freedom of the Americas,” The opening monologue went.

Maggie glanced around in the flickering light of the television to her children, sitting around her, all of them, excluding Ava-Maria, mouthing along to the dialogue. A warm feeling filled her chest. How horrible it would’ve been to wait for Sam, Steve, and Bucky to come around alone. How lucky she was that her children thought enough of her, thought enough of the family they were all apart of to wait with her.

Maggie’s eyes were drawn back to the screen as the narrator continued, “But the others wait in Casablanca, and wait, and wait, and wait.”

That’s all that was left for them to do, wasn’t it? There were a thousand different scenarios that spun and whirled in her brain, spinning out a whole universe of possibilities. Yet there were some things that Maggie knew for sure. Bucky and Sam were back, Nat was dead, and they were going to have to figure out what they were going to do about the new world situation. But above all, Maggie knew that for the moment, all that was left for her to do was wait and wait and wait.

There was time now. There was time left for her to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THEY'RE BACK! I know, I know Mags and Bucky didn't get the reunion they deserved, but don't worry, they will get their time, I just have to make sure the time/conditions are right. There is so much to unpack and explore I can't wait to share it all with you. I am writing feverishly, trying to get these last six chapters Juuusttt right for your enjoyment. So much left for our heroes still yet to come! I hope you continue to enjoy, and that you stick around for the end of this wonderful journey we're on! Until next time, Happy Reading!


	6. A Little Domestic Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way, shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> Recommended Listening: Trouble Man by Marvin Gaye; Yearnin’ Learnin’ by Earth Wind and Fire  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=OIfRa62AStG6pAwdRjJKKg

Five years. It had been five years.

Every bit of news, every new piece of information he received, it all came back to that one fact. He and half the universe’s population had been dead for five years, and now suddenly, through half a miracle and a hair-brained scheme, they were back.

Bucky could remember dissolving, watching his hand turn to dust. He remembered falling. Then nothing for a moment but darkness, and then the sound of Okoye calling him.

 _‘Up, Up White Wolf! We have to go. Steven Rogers needs our help.’_ She’d called urgently.

But he’d only been right there a moment ago? He’d vaguely commented to Okoye.

_‘You’ve been gone five years, you and half the world.’_

He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to linger on that information as they’d started organizing and preparing to charge back into battle.

Sure enough, Steve had needed help, and so he and all the other forces of this world and those of others had assembled and fought and won. However, their victory had come with a price.

Stark had sacrificed his life to win the battle, but Natasha—Tasha had sacrificed her life so that the battle was even possible in the first place. She’d sacrificed herself to get one of the stones so that the Avengers would have a chance to bring everyone back.

Bucky was just now starting to feel the weight of those losses, but only vaguely beginning to comprehend what those losses _meant._ Possibilities and opportunities. Shutting doors. Paths of redemption and reconciliation and reunion now cut off to him forever. Above all though minute by minute, he could feel the weight of the time that had been lost, stolen from him.

It had been five years.

How much time had been stolen from him hadn’t hit him until he’d seen her standing there, still as beautiful and strong and fierce as ever. There was no mistaking who she was, standing there wearing the same scarf he’d worn that day, that last time they’d been together, only a few hours ago by his recollection, but five years by her’s. She was still wearing the bracelet he’d given her, her hands firm, her eyes still dark and searching and depthless, her expression firm and stony, but there had been a light around her. Yet, Bucky also couldn’t deny the small signs of time. There was grey in the hair at her temples and the faintest lines around her eyes.

And for five years, she’d lived with his death and the death of half the universe. By her own admission, she’d started a farm and adopted some kids. She’d been busy, rebuilding the world for herself.

That was five years he’d missed, five years of chances, of choices, of experiences, of living with her that he was never going to get back. Every new revelation, every new bit of information, ever new moment, it all came back to that one single fact. He’d lost even more to the march of time.

There was no telling, of course, what might have happened had he survived the random selection of Thanos, but at least they would’ve been able to work through it all together, at least he would’ve had a choice.

Choice. That’s what being free of Hydra had meant. That’s what all that time and risk and separation from the world had been about. Freeing himself from Hydra and getting the chance to right the wrongs he’d perpetrated under their thrall. Yet he felt like he was right back there again, disoriented and stumbling, unsure when or where he was, never mind what purpose he was supposed to fulfill.

The smoke had started to clear away by the time they finally left what remained of the Avengers Compound. They had all worked tirelessly to ensure the bodies of their fallen were removed and properly looked after, and that all those who needed medical attention had been attended to. They’d then endured debriefings and the whole circus before eventually they’d been cleared to leave.

So they’d loaded up into Alecia’s ambulance and started ‘home,’ or at least that’s what she’d said. Sam and Steve were in the back. Sam was making sure that Steve got the proper medical attention in lieu of going to a hospital, which left him riding shotgun beside Alecia.

“How you holding up over there?” Alecia asked, slowly breaking the tension that had been growing in the silence as she drove.

Bucky turned his head to look at her, trying to puzzle through momentarily what she meant by ‘holding up.’

“I didn’t get a chance to give you a once over. Did any paramedic or EMT clear you before we left the compound?” She continued.

“Not exactly.” He answered flatly.

The Princess Shuri had given him a once over and said that he looked fine, but by all rights, he should’ve gone with the Wakandans for a full scan to ensure everything was all fine and correct. However, when Wilson had told the Princess that Mags expected all of them to come back to the compound, the Princess had shooed him away, assuring him that she’d be around for a check-up at some point in the future.

“When we get back to the house, I can give you a quick once over, just to make sure you’re not concussed or anything. But judging from your friend back there, you super soldiers are a hearty bunch,” Alecia continued.

Bucky looked her up and down. Her dark eyes were fixed on the road, dark brown, almost black hair was tied back securely in a messy bun, her Paramedic uniform was crumpled and dirty from the business of the day, and her face was streaked with grime and dirt, but she looked, _calm._ Perhaps not calm, perhaps focused, was the word he was looking for. She was what nineteen maybe twenty years old? Yet, she seemed to be taking all of this in stride. Well, Mags had probably told her a little bit about them, and Steve had probably spent some time out at the ranch too over those five years. So it wasn’t like Alecia was totally unfamiliar with all of them, all of this.

“How well do you know Steve?” Bucky ventured.

“Not at all.” Alecia shook her head, “I was working yesterday when he came by the ranch, but today was the first time I’d met him in person. Ms. Natasha came by on an infrequent basis, but Captain Rogers never did accept any of Mom’s invitations.”

Bucky sat, dumbfounded a moment as he let her words sink in. But he’d thought that, of course, Natasha and Steve would’ve joined her project.

_No._

Of course, they hadn’t joined her. That wasn’t their style. It was also why all of them were back because Steve and Natasha couldn’t leave well enough alone and move on. Mags had moved on, and she’d done so without them. Alone.

“And anyway, being a kid more or less raised in the system before mom came along, I’m used to weird and unlikely shit happening.” She paused, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “This must all be pretty weird to you.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well. The time gap…jump…blip…thing.” Alecia shrugged. “You’re gone half a second, it’s been five years for her, and she has a house, a farm, and five kids. I call myself pretty adaptable, but it would take me a minute.”

Had she picked up on his own internal musings, or was this just a general observation? Neither would surprise him. How much Mags had told her kids about him, and his past, Bucky didn’t know, but he wouldn’t make the ride any longer or more painful than it already was. So instead of burdening her with the observation that he’d experienced longer gaps in chronological time than a mere five years, he decided to change tactics.

“I’ve never known Mags to take anything lying down. I’m glad that she pushed forward after everything went down.” Bucky paused, “Is she happy?”

What he was feeling, the confusion, the anger, the frustration, that really didn’t matter, there was nothing he could do to change what had happened, but knowing that Mags had spent five years working and pushing forward, with infrequent visits from Natasha and apparently minimal to zero contact with Steve. The least he could hope for her was that she was happy or content even.

“How many kids actually know if their parents are happy? Least of all after half the population up and disappeared?” Alecia glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes a moment. Then focusing back on the road, she sighed. “I dunno. She always tried to do right by us. I don’t know if happiness was really a priority for her.”

Well, that certainly tracked for what he knew of Mags, or what he’d _known_ of Mags from before everyone disappeared.

Still, the fact remained, it had been five years. This also meant, by his count, it had been nearly ten years since he’d stumbled onto her property and dragged her into this whole mess. How much had changed, how different things were, in ways that he never could’ve imagined.

_Fuck._

He wanted to go back to his hut. He wanted to spend the night in with Mags. He wanted the world to be less complicated, less fucked up, and a little less cruel. He wanted peace. He wanted his peace. But that world, that place, those people didn’t exist anymore. The Mags he’d known didn’t exist anymore because it had been five years, and she’d had to exist in a world where half the population had disappeared for _five years_.

“But she got the old place back?” Bucky continued, trying to keep his thoughts from dragging him down a very dangerous spiral.

“Yeah. But don’t ask how, because I dunno. Most of the crew that survived actually came back too. They help her out with the community farm.”

Bucky nodded. _So she found her way back home after all._

Good. That was good. And he was glad that she hadn’t been alone after all. Even if Natasha and Steve hadn’t gone with her, she’d surrounded herself with people who loved her. That’s was really all he could’ve hoped for in the given situation.

“So, not equine therapy anymore?”

“Nope. A farm, farm. Crops and animals and everything.”

Oh.” Pieces were starting to come together, slowly shifting the picture into focus. But, more importantly, Bucky could speak to farms and farming. Not that he had _done_ much farming while in Wakanda, but he had been around farms and farm animals. “What does she keep?”

“A bit of this a bit of that. Though she does have a fondness for horses and goats, something about the farrier from West Texas and the one-armed goat herd.” She paused, glancing over at him.

Now, _that_ sounded like Mags, and Bucky couldn’t help but shake his head with a small chuckle, a small burning ember of hope burning in his chest, creating a kind of bubbling warmth. “Yeah. That sounds about right.” He agreed. “What else?”

So Alecia went on a minute, talking about what all Mags kept so far as animals, and then what her garden produced, her beekeeping efforts, her fruit trees, and her efforts to keep the whole thing self-sustained and off the grid. It sounded like a massive undertaking, which was _exactly_ the types of projects Mags thew herself into.

“That sounds amazing,” Bucky commented as she concluded her explanation of the farm Mags had created. “But.” He stopped himself before he could ask it, unsure if it would be appropriate and the circumstances or if he could bear the answer at this point.

“Where do me and my siblings come in?”

 _How does she do that?_ Well, it was the next logical step in the series of questions he was asking her. “Yeah.”

“Well, I guess you could blame Mike. He works for the children’s group home we all came out of. He called mom up when Bianca and her baby were about to age out. Then shortly after came the after school program, where she met Diego and Sara, and then me. I don’t think any of us really knew what to make of her at first. I guess being system kids, even before all the shit five years ago went down, we were all a little jaded. Then some random woman with this big house and all these animals and shit asked if we wanted to come and live with her full time? It was a lot. But we all warmed up to her eventually. I’m glad she’s our mom.”

So five kids, a farm, and some of the crew from before Hydra had burned the place to the ground. Mags had been busy.

“I think all of my siblings will be at the house when we get there,” Alecia continued, “So you’ll get to meet them tonight. Unfortunately, I don’t think Dani will have made it back from the city. Her partner showed back up today also. But if you stick around long enough, I’m sure you’ll get to meet her. She’s pretty cool, too.”

_Ah._ That was the bit of information, the fragment of intel that he’d been looking for to bring the picture into focus. Had she moved on without him? The answer, it seemed, was yes.

Something bitter twinged in his stomach and burned the back of his throat. Was that jealousy he felt welling up inside of him?

He didn’t know, and he tried to clamp down on the feeling and smother it before it could take root. After all, he and Mags had never been exclusive. Likewise, she’d understood that he and Steve had a relationship that was no less and no more important than the one he shared with her. They’d even joked about something like this. They’d known their perfect moment would end, and they would be forced to part, and that he’d want to see Mags as a little Abuela with her gray hair and gaggle of children and grandchildren.

_Yeah, but I thought I’d get to see the process, even from a distance. I thought I’d get a chance to be a part of it. I thought I’d have a role, a place, a purpose._

But he hadn’t. He’d disappeared without a trace, and what other choice had she seen but to continue trudging on without him?

It had been five years, and now he was back, suddenly, without explanation, and with no purpose or sense of direction, and no clue where he fit into it all.

_Fuck._

“Hey,” Wilson said, breaking through Bucky’s mental spiral as he slid open the partition between the front and the back of the ambulance. “What’s our eta?”

“We’re just about to pull into the drive, actually,” Alecia answered, turning on the blinker, she then turned onto a gravel road. “You two doing okay back there?”

“Hungry, thirsty, and tired, but stable.” Wilson paused, “you doing okay up here with her?” He asked, turning to him.

“We’re good.” Bucky managed.

“She’s not being mean to you, is she?” He continued with a smirk.

“Hey, now. That’s hardly fair. I’m driving.” Alecia protested.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll get Steve ready to go. I’ll have to stitch him up once we get in the house. That laceration isn’t healing as quickly as we were hoping.”

“I have stuff in my pack, and I know mom keeps that stuff on hand too.”

“ _Mom_.” Wilson echoed, shaking his head. “Now, _that’s_ weird.”

“You’ll have to give me dirt. I hear you’re one of her oldest friends,” Alecia replied.

“Something like that.” He nodded, “But later. Focus on the road.” He added, before closing the partition.

Alecia scoffed, rolling her eyes, but said nothing as they continued up the darkened drive. Bucky fixed his eyes forward, through the windshield, as the silhouette of the house loomed over them. It looked exactly the same as he remembered it, though, by his own admission, his recollection was rusty.

Yet, he couldn’t help but marvel at that fact. After four years of being on the run, and with everything she’d endured, that after the world had ended, she’d come back to the place it had all started and rebuilt almost exactly the same as it had been, from the ground up.

Alecia took a left at the fork, which put them just in front of the house. She stopped the ambulance and turned off the ignition, and as they climbed out, he glanced around. Down the hill, the outline of the barn was just visible in the dark, though he could see that the configuration of the property had been changed and made more suitable for a farm rather than an equine therapy facility.

Rounding the back of the ambulance, Bucky helped Steve from the vehicle, Wilson following behind with a bag of supplies before they all stopped and looked up at the house.

“She really rebuilt it,” Wilson muttered to himself.

“Guys,” Alecia called in a hushed but severe tone, drawing their attention. “Shh.” She pressed a finger to her lips before walking up to the front door and unlocking it with one of the keys from the massive ring of keys she’d withdrawn from her jacket pocket. Opening the door, she stood out of the way as Steve and Sam shuffled by, waving him in behind them, she brought up the rear and closed the door after them.

They walked through the narrow hallway, off to their left was an office, to their right the stairs, and formal dining and continued into the living room, which connected to the kitchen eating area and the kitchen beyond.

There was the sound of hushed but urgent voices, and the scraping of wooden chair legs on wooden floors as Mags swept Steve and Sam and Alecia to the kitchen table. There was the sound of running water and general shuffling and talking.

Bucky stayed in the living room, knowing that whatever was happening in the kitchen, he had no place or purpose there.

Instead, he looked around, his gaze first falling on the couch, drawn by a spray of colors. _Our blanket._ He immediately went to it, holding the blanket in both hands, feeling the fibers under his fingertips. The blanket that Mags had made for them, the blanket that had covered them while they’d slept, and been used countless timed for laying out under the stars, it was still here.

Bucky smiled to himself, returning the blanket to the couch, and looked up at the mantlepiece. There he and Becca were, smiling at the camera on the front porch of his parent’s apartment. Beside the photograph was a tri-folded flag, framed in a wooden frame behind glass. On the opposite end of the mantle stood another flag and picture of Wilson, Mags, and Riley.=

 _That’s my flag._ He realized after a moment. It must have come from his sister. It was the only explanation. Of course, how and when Mags had taken it into her possession, he didn’t know, but as he approached the mantle to get a better look at the photograph, he couldn’t help but get the feeling that he was walking over his own grave.

She’d lived in the absolute and utter belief that he and half the world’s—no universe’s population was gone, forever.

Mags had grieved for him, grieved for Sam, for the world.

So where did that leave him now? Bucky didn’t know, and at present, he didn’t want an answer. Exhaling sharply with a shake of his head, he caught sight of the large wooden shelf to his left.

As he took a closer look, a small, half-smile crossed his face. _Her ofrenda._ It was beautiful, and Bucky could tell that someone had taken great care to carve and assemble the massive shelf, though, he couldn’t help but notice how heavily it was weighed with photographs of the dead.

He was on there. Well, all of them were, he corrected himself. It was that selfie that she’d insisted they take at New Year’s Eve 2018. _Fuck._

It felt like months ago. He could still remember that night, how beautiful everyone had looked, how much he’d dreaded watching Nat, Steve, and Wilson go back out there without him.

Nat was dead. He and Sam had been gone for five years. It had been five years. This was 2023.

He looked away, and again his attention pulled to the left, drawn to the bright colors on Mags’s loom.

 _So she’d taken it with her somehow._ Bucky could remember the long afternoons she’d spent at that loom before dinner, the way that she’d sit and fuss over the tension, and the colors, and the weight of the thread she was using. How strange to see it inside, when he’d only ever seen the massive thing outside their hut. Yet, there it was sitting against the wall, a project half-finished sitting there waiting for completion, not the same one she’d been working on. This one was new. The fibers were coarser than the one’s she’d been using in Wakanda, but the weave was delicate and light. It was all in various shades of blue and was worked in waves, like an ocean.

Mags had improved, her weaving even and consistent, the patterns tidier. After all, five years had passed, she’d had time to practice. He paused as he noticed the guitar in its stand tucked into the corner nearly behind the loom itself.

Had she learned to replay it? Perhaps. Or maybe it was her partner’s—Dani was what the girl, Alecia, had called her, wasn’t it? Maybe it was Dani’s guitar.

His mind turned to this new line of thinking. Dani, Mags's partner. How had they met? What was she like? Did she make Mags laugh? Did she know about everything that had happened to Mags? What had Mags told Dani about him? Had Mags talked about him with Dani at all?

He turned away from the guitar and the loom up at the back wall and paused. But of course, that’s what he’d been looking for, that’s what had been missing. The family photos. The photos of the past five years.

There she was. Mags and the volunteers of Last Chance, with whom Bucky could only assume, was Dani, cutting the ribbon to “One More Chance Farm.” There were photos with the kids, well, not just her kids, he could assume, but a few of the faces repeated. Diego, Alecia, and a few others he assumed were the ones Mags had adopted, but there was always a diverse and rotating number of kids depending on the photograph. Yet, Mags ways always there, front and center with a smile, and Bucky couldn’t help but notice one of his scarves draped around her neck or wrapped around her head.

Dani was there, or least he assumed that the tall, slender black woman, who wore her hair in a large Afro in most of the photos, was her. There were a couple of photos where Dani was very casually draping an arm over Mags’s shoulders, or even on top of her head, exaggerating their height differences.

They were laughing and smiling for the camera in most of them, but the photo that caught Bucky’s attention was one that had clearly been candid. Dani and Mags were sitting on a picnic table, Dani on the bench, Mags on the tabletop, talking to one another. Well, Dani was talking. Mags had her chin in her hand and was watching Dani intensely with those dark eyes, a look of pure adoration in her expression. She had filled her life with such beauty, and life and hope worked in the service of others and loved deeply and completely over the past five years.

 _She’d looked at me like that, not so long ago._ Bucky couldn’t help but think

Yet, it had been a while. A long while. It has been five years for her. A long time than they’d had in Wakanda. Longer than her search for him, longer than he’d gotten a chance to be Bucky Barnes after 70 years of being the Winter Soldier for Hydra.

And now, he was back. But where did that leave him? Where could he fit? Where did he fit in the fabric of this woman’s life? A woman, a person that he loved deeply, but whom he’d also hurt, he could imagine, in more ways than he could fully comprehend.

“Hey.” Her voice eased into his surroundings, and he turned to see her standing there, a stack of tidily folded clothes and towels in hand.

She was watching him, surveying him, taking in the scene, and trying to read him, as if to guess what he might be thinking.

“Hey.” He answered

“Sam’s patching Steve up, but I thought you might want to shower and change,” Mags said, her voice hushed as she extended the stack to him.

Bucky nodded wordlessly as he took the stack from her, their fingers brushing. “Thank you, Mags.” He answered, lowering his voice as he spoke when she pointed to the ceiling.

“The bathroom is at the top of the stairs. I’ve made up a room for each of you. You’ll be in the pink room, which is on the opposite side of the bathroom. I left the sleeping mat for you. The mattress will be too soft for you since you’re used to sleeping on the ground.” Mags continued mater of factly. “Bianca and Ava-Maria are doubled up with me.” She added quickly. “Trying to make sure we won’t interrupt you as we come and go.”

Was that nervous uncertainty in her expression or expectation? What would she want him to say? What could he say to her that might resolve five years of absence in a sentence or two? ‘Sorry I was gone, but I’m back now?’ While that certainly was a concise summation of the situation, it hardly began to bridge the chasm that stood between them.

He wanted to draw her to him, hold, her stroke her face and her hair, and her skin, and kiss her deeply, passionately, and promise never to be parted from her again.

But right now was neither the time nor the place for any such behavior. And in truth, he could offer no such promise. They knew that, and for five years she’d lived with that.

Their perfect moment cut short, or shorter than they’d ever imagined it might be.

“Thank you, Mags.” He repeated softly, maintaining eye contact with her. Bucky wished desperately that he could say something else, provide better words of comfort or assurance to her.

It had been a long day. Maybe all of that would be better left for tomorrow after he’d had a chance to shower, and change, and rest. “I’ll have some food waiting for you when you’re out. We made Calibasita earlier.” She replied.

“That sounds good.” He nodded. “Bathroom was up the stairs, you said?”

Mags nodded in confirmation, and he was about to turn when she leaned toward him, and he stopped. Something passed over her face, hesitance, uncertainty, and an undefinable sadness. “See you in a few.” She said finally.

“See you in a few.” Bucky agreed. Turning, he walked down the hall and up the stairs.

It had been five years, and as he walked down the halls of the home that Mags had constructed in his absence, and surveyed the photographs and artwork, and life that had accumulated on the walls, he could feel the weight of that reality starting to settle on his shoulders.

He’d been gone, and the world had moved on without him. She’d moved on without. The future was uncertain. So, what was there for him to do? Bucky knew that first, he’d have to get his bearings, and showering, eating, and sleeping were all an important start. After that? What was going to happen next? That was anyone’s guess, but Bucky knew for sure there was no going back, no way to regain the years that he’d lost. The only way path was forward. What that meant or what that would look beyond a hot shower and a hot meal was a problem for later.

Managing to strip off his gear and turn on the hot tap, Bucky tried to ignore the numbness that had settled over him, and the salty tears that streamed down his face with the water as he stood under the scalding stream.

-

Maggie awoke with a start in the disoriented way people did when they were startled from a deep sleep, to find that she was in an empty bed, and that light was streaming in through the windows. Her alarm hadn’t gone off, which was weird, and she searched blindly a moment for her alarm clock before she rolled over and discovered that it wasn’t there. Likewise, she’d somehow managed to forget her phone downstairs, leaving her with little indication of what time it was, how long she’d been asleep, or if anyone had tried to get a hold of her.

_Well. Fuck._

She lay back in the pillows, the visions of the day before flooding back as she tried to put them into some kind of coherent narrative to make some of it make sense.

It had been more of a blur, but several key points immediately stuck out to her. Natasha was dead, over 3.5 billion people were snapped back into existence, and Sam, Bucky, and Steve were currently bunking at her place.

Well, at the very least, that’s what her brain was telling her had happened yesterday. A severe lack of sleep, an overload of adrenaline, and way too many cups of coffee in the early hours of the morning were all making her brain fuzzy.

By the time everyone had showered and eaten after, of course, Sam had stitched up Steve, it was approaching midnight, but rather than going to bed, they’d all sat around the table, and Steve had told them everything that had happened leading up to half the population coming back from the dead, and the massive battle between yet another Thanos and his forces. Time travel, mistaken identities, wielding Thor’s hammer, hundreds of portals opening from all around the world, and the galaxy opening to bring in reinforcements for the avengers, Stark’s Sacrifice, Natasha’s fall.

It had been a lot to take in, and Maggie had listed in numb silence as Steve had narrated, punctuated occasionally by Sam and Bucky, who filled in the gaps from the Wakandan front lines. It had been near 2:00 a.m. when she’d started nodding off, and although she’d wanted nothing more than to invite Bucky to come up with her, Maggie knew that there was probably a lot that he and Steve needed to talk about.

_There will be time for us._

“Well, not if I’ve slept through morning chores. _Fuck._ ” She grumbled, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Throwing back the blankets, Maggie padded to the master bathroom and turned on the tap. Splashing water on her face to wash the sleep out of her eyes, she paused a moment as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

_God, I look like shit._

The last few days hadn’t been kind to her, and she could see the dark, exhausted bags under her eyes.

_No wonder they stole my alarm clock._

It had been a rough few days, long days, difficult days, and Maggie was still reeling.

Bucky and Sam and the rest of everyone they’d lost five years ago were back, Natasha and Stark were dead, and now they all had to figure out where to go from here.

The sheer magnitude of that statement alone was breathtakingly massive.

_So, where to start?_

Well. She needed to get dressed, go downstairs, and assess the damage. Her cellphone was still downstairs, so she’d probably missed about a thousand phone calls and texts from Dani.

 _No. No. No._ First, she needed to drink her coffee and eat breakfast, and _then_ she could figure out what the hell she was supposed to do next.

Dressing in her usual work attire, she paused as she reached for the scarves. Bucky’s scarves. For five years, she’d worn one almost every day, a piece of him close to her heart. Was that weird? She’d never thought it was weird before, but now he was back, walking, talking, breathing, and it might be strange to him that for five years, she’d worn some of his clothes.

Well, she was about to find out, wasn’t she? Besides, of all the weird shit going on, how she’d dressed was hardly at the top of the list.

Selecting a river tribe patterned headscarf, she quickly and carefully wrapped her hair in the length of fabric before she walked from her bedroom. When she reached the stairs, she paused and smiled.

_Now, who would be listening to Earth, Wind, and Fire at this hour?_

Continuing down the stairs, Maggie found one other than Sam Wilson in the Kitchen, wearing her "Kiss the Cook" apron, standing in front of the stove, singing along to ‘Yearnin’ Learnin,’ as it blared through the downstairs speakers.

Maggie watched him for a moment, her brain trying to convince itself that what she was seeing wasn’t some figment of her imagination, that this was really happening. 

For five years, and hell even longer than that, she’d wanted something like this in her life, and now that it was happening, she couldn’t help but marvel at how reality was now stranger than fiction. All of the things that had happened over the past eleven years somehow had cumulated in this.

“Good morning, Samuel Wilson.” She managed after a moment.

“So, you’re awake,” Sam answered without turning around to face her, he paused the music and the house went quiet. “I’m working on breakfast. We have apple juice, orange juice, milk, coffee, and sweet ice tea.”

“I can fix myself a cup of coffee,” Maggie replied, moving to the cabinet to get a mug.

“How’d you sleep?”

“All right. Who, might I ask, do I have to thank for the missing alarm clock?”

“Bianca. That girl runs a tight ship. Had Diego Sara and Alecia on the chores this morning at 5:00 a.m.”

Maggie glanced at the clock on the stove and sighed. It was 10:00 a.m. _Fuck._ She always liked to wish the kids off for the day before they left for school or work, and now she’d also slept through her morning chores, never mind all the calls that she was probably missing.

“I take it they got off fine?”

“Yeah. They said you usually wish them off, but none of them wanted to wake you. Said you’d earned a good rest.”

“Well. I appreciate that.” Maggie said, taking a sip from the steaming mug of coffee she’d poured for herself. “How’d you sleep?”

“All right. The reed mat you left for me helped.” Sam answered.

“I’m glad. I remember you and Riley talking about how hard it was to adjust to sleeping in a bed after being on tour. Plus, in my own experience, it took a bit of time to get back to the comforts of a pillow top.” Maggie paused, “I take it that’s where Steve and Bucky are still.”

“They had to head out early too. Briefings, and debriefings, and clean up to oversee.”

Sam didn’t flinch, or wince, or try to couch the news with niceties or soften it with qualifiers. Maggie appreciated that he hadn’t done any of that, but it still stung. They’d come and gone, and she hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Bucky. “Oh.” She managed, her voice small and soft, the word more a shape than a sound.

“Steve said they’d be back later.”

“Yeah. That sounds like something Steve would say.” Maggie replied, blandly trying, but failing, to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “So, how did you get stuck with me?”

“Well. Since the compound was blown to bits, and with Stark dead, we’re in the process of working up a home base. Banner and a few of the others are trying to work with Potts to get the lease back on Avengers Tower, but Steve and I felt that since you’re closer and more isolated than the tower, this would be a good place to set up shop for a few of us while we try to get everything settled.” Sam explained. “Provided that’s all right with you.”

“What do you mean by ‘a few of us,’ Samuel Wilson?”

“Me, Steve, Bucky,” Sam shrugged, turning around with a plate of bacon in one hand and plate stacked high with French toast in the other and set it on the island counter between them.

“Like I wasn’t going to demand that you all stay with me for a bit while we figure all this out.” Maggie raised an eyebrow.

“Well. The way your phone has been ringing off the hook, I say you have more than enough of your plate.”

“Oh. Fuck.” Maggie glanced around for her phone.

“You have 15 texts, 22 missed calls, and 18 voice mails.” Sam slid her phone and a note pad where he’d been scribbling messages down across the counter to her. “I’ve been holding down the fort while you get some much-needed rest.” He continued before she could protest. “None of them are emergencies. I was able to get them the information they needed and directed people to the proper contact. Bill, Suzanne, and Mike all say get some rest, and that they’ll be checking in with you later in the afternoon after you’ve gotten a chance to sleep and eat and take care of yourself.” Sam paused, before adding, “or did you really think you were going to have to rebuild the world again on your own?”

Maggie nodded. He wasn’t wrong. She did have a lot on her plate, and much like before all this mess with Hydra, the hunt for the Winter Soldier, and her two-year stint in Wakanda, it was all a delicate dance to keep all the plates spinning. Everything felt so backward, and she was still trying to convince herself that this wasn’t some dream that she was going to wake up from at any second. “Well, you still should’ve woken me up, Sammie.” She concluded finally.

“You’ll have to take that up with your kids. They called the shots.” He smirked as he retrieved to plates from the cabinet and started loading his down with bacon and French toast. “Mom.” He added with a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Is there a question in there, or are you just laughing at me?”

“It sounds like a story,” Sam answered. Pausing, he glanced around. “It sounds like a lot of stories.” He looked back down at his plate. “I can’t believe you rebuilt it just the way we’d planned to, all those years ago.”

There was a lump in his throat as he said it, and Maggie knew that this wasn’t just about the five years that had passed in a moment for him. It was that He’d never come back to the ranch after Riley died, had never seen the state the house had been in, aside from it being on fire when they’d rescued her. Five years was a long time, but eleven years was a lot longer. And now to be standing in the kitchen they’d planned, eating breakfast together, it was a lot.

“I felt that it was the only house that belonged on the plot. Regardless of who I was sharing the house with.” She answered firmly. “I did make some changes, of course. Everything’s green energy, sustainable, all the water is collected and recycled. But the bones of the place are the same. The foundation’s footprint. I think it was the only way that it would feel like home.”

Sam nodded again. “It was good to talk to Bill, Mike, and Suzanne. Glad to hear they’re still here making mischief, keeping you out of too much trouble.”

“I think _I’m_ the one getting them into trouble, rather than them keeping me out of it.” She smiled. “Last Chance wouldn’t be Last Chance without them.”

“It wouldn’t be Last Chance without you,” He corrected.

“Well, for the record, it’s not called Last Chance Ranch anymore. We renamed it when we opened the community farm.” Maggie commented.

“Oh. What you guys rename it.”

“One More Chance Farm.” It wasn’t the most original, but it felt slightly more hopeful than Last Chance. There would always be one more chance, never a last chance.

“Well, all the same. It wouldn’t be Maggie’s place without you.”

“Yeah. That’s what they told me, in not so many words, when I came back from the dead five years ago.”

“How’d they take it?”

“Happy, sad, confused, angry as shit at Bucky.”

“So they figured out who ‘Barn Matt’ was, huh?”

“It was pretty obvious after the bombing in Vienna.” She answered. “But once I explained a few key things, they realized the situation, everyone more or less dropped it, and focused on rebuilding the old place.”

“Make sense,” Sam agreed, and they dropped into silence as they focused on their plates.

Maggie kept an eye on Sam, trying to get a read on what he was thinking and feeling. She couldn’t imagine what was going on in his head. She’d taken the long road and could hardly get her mind around what the last 48 hours had wrought, never mind having to factor in the last five years of lost time. “You must have a lot of questions.” Maggie ventured after a moment.

“Yeah. Got in touch with my mom this morning. She gave me a pretty good recap of the last five years.” He paused, “I was surprised you were the one to reach out to notify her of my…death.” He struggled with the last word, and she didn’t blame him.

“I did. And I reached out to the Martinez-Proctors.” Maggie stopped, trying to find the words to explain herself. “Morose as it sounds, I was probably the best equipped out of those of us left to deliver that news. To Steve’s credit, he wanted to, but I don’t know if he would’ve been able to get through that conversation. Not after what happened.”

“How did you do it?”

“The phone call to Mamma Wilson? Or…in general?”

“First one, then the other, I guess.”

Maggie nodded, cupping both hands around her coffee mug. “I felt that I owed it to you to break that news to your mother. I would’ve gone in person, but travel was a mess, and I was a mess, the world was a mess, but I knew that she deserved to hear it from me.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I always thought of you, me, and Riley as a package set.” She answered with a small, sad smile. “And that as the last surviving member of our throple, it was my responsibility to break that news.” Maggie exhaled a small breath, blinking heavily. “God. Sam. I wasn’t ready to lose you. Not that I was ready to lose any of you, but jeezus. It was so hard, because it felt like I’d just gotten you back after Riley’s death, and that we had so much more left to say and do and be.” She stammered out, tears starting to stream.

“Hey. Hey.” Sam soothed, taking her hands in his. “You did good, kid, and I’m proud of you.”

“Kid? Sam. I’m rapidly approaching forty. I’m not sure kid is exactly an apt description.” She sniffled, blinking heavily to try to stop the tears.

“You’ll always be kid to me.” He chuckled. “And thank you, for doing that, it meant a lot to my mother that you called her personally. It means a lot to me that you kept up with her over the years too.”

“Of course. Always,” She nodded. “If our places were reversed, I’m sure you would’ve done the same.”

Sam nodded in reply, squeezing her hands, he let them go and returned to his breakfast. “And the ranch—err farm?”

“Oh. Right.” She nodded, quickly wiping her eyes with her sleeve before taking up her coffee mug again. “I knew I couldn’t stay at the compound. I didn’t know what my plan would be but knew I couldn’t stay. When Steve showed me the listing for Last Chance, I knew that I had to go back and make right after the way things ended with Hydra burning the house down and nearly killing me along with it. So I bought the place, and Steve put a massive down payment on getting the house rebuilt, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Yeah, but, Mags, really?” He motioned around. “A community farm, after school program, a green and sustainable living situation, kids, a beautiful black woman you still need to introduce me to? Rome wasn’t built in a day, but if you’d been there, it would’ve been a helluva lot faster.”

Maggie laughed, shaking her head. “It’s a lot. And if I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure how I ended up here anyway. I took the first step of repurchasing the ranch and building the house. I then took the next step of making is green and sustainable, and then the next step with a community garden, and then the next step and next step, and by the time I stopped and looked around to question what I was doing, I was in the middle of it all, too far gone to stop, and in a position where I _wanted_ to keep going.” She paused, “It was all really fucking scary. Particularly when I adopted Bianca, who at that point was a teen mom. It was always supposed to a community project, the farm I mean. But then I got the kids involved, and these are traumatized young people who were depending on me to protect them and look out for them.” Maggie shook her head. “I almost lost it. It was tough. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. But I knew that I couldn’t stop, couldn’t go back, or quit doing what I was doing, because these kids, this community, all these people were depending on me to keep going.” She looked up at Sam. “But I think it all turned out okay, I got 3/5ths of them through grade school, and the after school program is going strong, and we’ve had more fresh produce over the past year than we knew what to do with. You should see our cellar. I am a _master_ at canning and preserving.”

"I don't doubt." Sam shook his head before continuing,“And the beautiful Black woman in all of your photos?”

“Oh. Dani.” Maggie breathed. She’d been trying not to think about that, and she turned over her phone to see if one of the 15 missed text messages was from her.

_Well, I’m up to 35 messages now, and only one of them is from her confirming that she’s safe and with Alejandra._

_‘I’ll text when I get the chance, love you!’_

Her stomach twinged, and her chest ached. “She’s a social worker, a co-worker of Mike’s. You’d like her. Though, she’s with her partner Alejandra, at the moment.”

“I take it Alejandra just showed back up with the rest of us yesterday,” Sam said, knowingly.

“Yeah. It’s going to be complicated for a bit.”

“It sounds like you made a beautiful life for yourself,” he paused, glancing around. “Couldn’t help but notice Steve and Nat aren’t in any of the more recent photos.”

Maggie exhaled sharply. “I tried Sam. I really tried. They weren’t willing to take the jump with me.” She shook her head. “And I guess—I mean, I guess if things had worked out like I’d hoped, and that they’d been able to move on and heal, we wouldn’t be sitting here, talking over french toast and bacon.”

“From what your kids told me, it sounds like you did your best.”

“Yeah.” Maggie breathed.

“Your kids are great, by the way.” Sam continued. “Seem like they have good heads on their shoulders.”

“There were always great. I just gave them a place they could call home, a place where they could come to when things got rough.”

“I’d argue that you gave them more than that,” He said, leaning back in his chair. “I take it you didn’t see Steve and Nat much then.”

“Natasha, more than Steve. Natasha…we made it a point to try to have dinner once a month. She actually came out to the ranch once a month for about two years on a regular basis. Steve…” Maggie trailed off. “After I left the compound, I didn’t see Steve. We texted, and sent gifts, and kept in touch, but I didn’t see him in person until the day before yesterday when he came to tell me their plan for getting all of you back.” She grimaced. “I could tell--I could tell he had no intention of living through it. Neither of them had any intention of living through it.” Maggie exhaled a shaking breath. “I can’t believe Natasha’s gone.”

There was a long pause as that fact continued to sink in, and they both grappled with the immensity of the loss. Steve’s words rang out in her mind. _What’s one life weighed against trillions?_

Natasha had given her life for a greater purpose, and Maggie was grateful, eternally grateful for her sacrifice. But to what end?

“I can’t believe we were gone. For five years.”

Maggie looked up to see Sam thumb away a tear that had started to slide down his own cheek as he exhaled a long and shaking breath. Wordlessly, she rose and rounded the kitchen island, pulling Sam into a hug. He returned the embrace, and she could feel his shoulders shake as he cried softly against her. It wasn’t despair, not exactly, not grief, per se, but fear and uncertainty. It was a long time for anyone to be out of the world.

“I know, Sammie. I know. Let it out.” She murmured, holding him to her.

Maggie couldn’t imagine what was going through his head, or what was going through the heads of the nearly 4 billion people who’d just popped back into existence. She could remember how scary it had been to lose everyone and to come to terms with their absence. What their return meant, it was too early to say, but she knew as much joy and happiness their return had brought, there was going to be pain too.

But that was the way of things, wasn’t it? There were two sides to every coin, life and death, gain and loss, growth, and decay. How things were going to shake down in the long run, or what all was going to happen, was still yet to be determined.

How the hell had Bucky managed it?

Maggie never had asked how he’d quantified and dealt with losing almost seventy years of chronological time. Mostly they’d talked about and focused on what he _had_ done while he was with Hydra. With Steve as well, they’d never gotten the chance to talk about how he’d moved on from coming out of the ice.

In Maggie’s professional opinion, Steve _hadn’t_ moved on, and that had been the problem with the past five years too. Now that everyone, well nearly everyone, was back, they were all going to have a lot of baggage and trauma and frankly _shit_ to unpack before they could even begin to figure out what the hell they were going to do next.

“We’re going to figure it out, Sam. The whole _universe_ is going to have to figure it out. But you won’t be alone.” Maggie breathed, “ _We_ aren’t alone. We’re going to figure this out together as a team.” She murmured.

After a moment, Sam broke away, still sniffling, his face still streaked with tears. Maggie quietly retrieved a box of tissues, and a glass of water, setting them at Sam’s elbow before returning to her seat across from him. Blowing his nose, wiping his eyes, and drinking the glass of water, he sniffled a few more times before looking up to meet her watchful gaze. “Thank you.”

“Always.” She answered with a small smile.

Sam nodded, taking a shaking breath. “So, what’s the plan, Mags?”

“Today? Or in general?” Maggie replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Point taken,” he conceded. “I guess since the world didn’t plan on all of us showing back up, general plans are all out the window.”

“I think we’re all playing this by ear at the moment.” She agreed.

“So. What are _you_ going to do today? And can I help?”

“I’d be happy for your help, Sam. Though I wouldn’t want to keep you from any official _Avengers_ responsibilities.”

“Right now, I’m holding down the fort, and on-call. So I might have to suit up and go at a minute's notice, but that’s not totally unusual for me.”

Maggie nodded firmly. “Well.” She began slowly, trying to find a way through the murky muddled mess her brain had become. “I figured once I finish breakfast, I’ll follow up on the mounting number of phone calls and text messages I’m getting and try and knock as many of them out as I can before lunch. Need to check in with Mike to see if the after school program is going to happen today, or not, all things considered, and then we’ll go from there,” She paused. “Did Steve say when they were going to be back?”

“He didn’t.”

“Well, at least he’s consistent.” Maggie rubbed her forehead, trying not to taste the bitter bile of jealousy on the back of her throat.

It wasn’t like Steve and Bucky were exactly getting a moment alone either. They were all trying to deal with the current situation in the ways they all knew how. Which meant she was here, and Steve, Bucky, and more than likely Sam at a moment’s call were out there doing their avenging, super-soldiering things. But still, she wanted to talk to Bucky. She wanted to follow her own advice, and go to him, hug him, and tell him that she still loved him and that it was going to be okay.

“Sorry.” Maggie shook her head. “I guess…I’m just frustrated.”

“You’re well within your right.” Sam answered, “I honestly don’t know how you put up with all the bullshit we’ve put you through.”

“Well, I know I gave you a lot of shit, so what goes around comes around. I also happen to love you assholes, so you have that going for you.” She chuckled, trying her best to keep out of her head and away from her feelings. After all, she had work to take care of, they all had a lot of work to take care of, now wasn’t the time to compromise herself. “But honestly.” Maggie continued, glancing up at him. “I guess I thought I’d get to have you all back, to myself, for a bit. Just to sit on my horrible Craigslist couch, and be able to breathe a moment, and grieve, and figure all this shit out together.”

"I can't believe that damn couch survived the apocalypse," Sam said dryly. "Or that you _let it_ survive the apocalypse."

"That _damn_ couch has sentimental value." Maggie sighed, her gaze going distant. "Just trying not to be disappointed." 

“Give it time, Mags. It’s been less than 24 hours. Once all this settles down, we’ll get time.” Sam said firmly.

And Maggie wanted to believe that. She _really_ did. Because for the last five years, she’d thought of nothing but that chance, that opportunity to have _time_. Maggie had thought that if she could get Steve and Natasha to both come to the ranch and sit down on her ugly couch, and talk, and laugh, and cry, and grieve, that they could figure out a way to move forward. Now, Natasha was dead, and Bucky and Sam and everyone they’d lost was back, and still, there were wounds, deep ones, that would need to be addressed. All Maggie could hope for was that they’d get their chance, get their time, get the opportunity to heal and grieve together. 

It was a long shot, knowing Steve, and knowing the state of the world, but maybe Maggie was wrong. Maggie _wanted_ to be wrong. The people they’d lost five years ago to Thanos were back, and she’d thought maybe Steve would allow himself to rest, allow himself to grieve, allow himself to move on. And maybe together, she and Steve as the two people who’d lived through the past five years, they’d be able to help everyone who’d been gone, Sam, Bucky, Alejandra, Steph, and so many many more, figure out how to move forward.

Maybe they’d get a chance at a moment of domestic bliss, together, for the first time in a very, very long time. Maggie could hope, and for the first time, in a long time, she knew that it could be more than just hope.

“I guess until then. We have work to do.” She continued in, perhaps a too chipper tone.

“Let’s get to it, then,” Sam answered.

Maggie smiled. “It’s good to have you back, Sammie.”

“It’s good to be here, Mags.”

And like that, she and Sam set to work, trying to put the world back together, side by side, bit by bit, step by step, one tiny piece at a time. Just the way she’d always wanted, just the way she’d hoped she and Sam would get to do, it had just taken them eleven years to get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What do we think? There was a lot to unpack in this chapter (and imagine we have another five to go after this!) I was so happy to get to have Mags and Sam get to reconnect. I know, I know Bucky and Mags need their moment, and they will get their moment (it just takes a minute, bear with me. I promise I’m going to make it right). I look forward to hearing what you think, I hope you and yours are all doing well on this first day of Halloween! And Until Next time, Happy Reading!


	7. Goodbye My Friend, Rest Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way, shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> Recommended Listening: For Good from Wicked; Good Riddance (Time of Our Lives) by Green Day; Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=AOk2TVFHSquurYeO97_3ZA

_'Give it time, Mags, once this settles down, we’ll get our time.’_

That’s what Sam had said, nearly a week and a half ago, and Maggie still hadn’t gotten her time with them.

Sam, Steve, and Bucky had been in and out between clean up, meetings, and god only knew what else. Maggie hadn’t seen much of them. She had, of course, seen a lot more of her kids, who of their own accords had worked out shifts to come by and help her in addition to the other usual denizens of the farm. Everyone, it seemed, came out of the woodwork for dinner as they all checked in on her.

This was, of course, excluding Dani. Maggie and Dani had only managed a few short phone calls since everyone had gotten back. Between work and trying to get Alejandra settled in, there had been few chances for them to converse at length, and their communication had been reduced to a few scant text messages throughout the day. She would be coming to the memorial today, of course, but it was unlikely that they’d get much of an opportunity to talk at any length.

She _still_ hadn’t gotten to talk to Bucky. Yeah, sure, they had spoken to one another, a few quick words in passing, or at meals with Steve, Sam, and the rest of the gang. It was just that they had yet to have a moment alone to be able to _talk,_ like talk _talk,_ about them, about what had happened, and what that might mean for them and the future. But, there seemed to be an end to the immediate chaos just in sight.

Today they were burying Stark.

Maggie hadn’t gone. She’d been invited, of course, but she’d decided to stay behind so she could get ready for Natasha’s memorial in the afternoon. Not exactly ideal, two funeral services in one day, but logistically it made sense, considering how close Maggie’s farm and the Stark Cabin were to hold both the same day.

Then tomorrow, Steve would return the stones and Thor’s hammer to their proper places in time (which would’ve sounded like a totally batshit statement two weeks ago). After that, there was no more immediate and pressing Avengers business that she was aware of. Sam was going to fly his mom and sisters up for a few days, and She, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Sam’s family would all have a minute to breathe. Or at least that was her hope.

Of course, the only catch was that she had to make it through the next 48 hours to see that this momentary peace would actually come to fruition.

There was going to be a crowd for Natasha’s memorial. And although Natasha hadn’t been Catholic or Mexican, Maggie was both and had set about the task of making sure there would be enough food for afterward.

So, conscripting her kids and anyone within earshot and arm's reach, Maggie made ten trays of chicken enchiladas, five catering trays of rice, and five of beans. Then on top of that, she’d made 50 gallons of sweet tea, five gallons of salsa, a massive salad, and had managed to acquire three catering sized bags of tortilla chips.

It was overkill, of course, but it had served its purpose as a distraction.

A distraction from the hurt and anger and frustration she felt about the whole situation, a distraction from the fact that she hadn’t opened Natasha’s parting message, nor had she figured out what she wanted to say at the memorial.

Steve had asked her to, and of course, she’d accepted. Natasha was her friend and had been one biggest influences in her life over the past nine years. Of course she wanted to say a few words in her memory. It was just difficult to know what to say when everything felt so wrong. Yet Maggie was struggling with how best to honor Natasha and her life, her sacrifice, and dare Maggie say it, her legacy when she felt that She’d failed Natasha so thoroughly.

Which was why she was sitting on the edge of the couch, dressed in black, holding the envelope Natasha had left her in both hands.

_Why did you do this to me? Surely, there was someone else to give your message to._

It was a horrible, nasty thought, but Maggie wasn’t sure she could bear the thought of being the _only_ person Natasha had to leave a message for. It seemed so unfair and unjust. Yet, Maggie knew that Natasha would be here with them still if the world were just and fair.

Maggie sighed.

She had 30 minutes before Suzanne, Mike, Mitchel, and Bill were going to show up to help her set up. Sam had texted her to let her know they were about an hour and a half out with others inbound behind them. Bianca was upstairs with Ava-Maria getting ready. Sara, Diego, and Alecia were outside dealing with the animals before they came inside to get ready as well.

So it was now or never.

Breaking the seal, Maggie removed the contents and exhaled.

In her hand, she held a thumb drive with a sticky note rubber-banned to it that said, “watch me” and a snapshot. It was a selfie that she and Natasha had taken during one of the first dinners they had together after Maggie had moved out to the Ranch again. Steve had also left the compound and had declined their dinner invitation. So they’d taken the selfie, making the worst duck lips you could imagine and had sent it to Steve. It was one of the few times that Maggie could remember over the past five years that they’d been able to be silly together.

Chuckling, Maggie flipped the photo over and found it was inscribed, with the date it was taken and the words, “for your ofrenda.”

Tears tugged just behind her eyes, and Maggie had to blink profusely to keep any from falling. “Goddamn it, Natasha.” Maggie breathed, shaking her head vigorously.

Rising from the couch, Maggie found a spare photo stand and placed their photo carefully on the ofrenda between her photo of her, Sam, and Riley, and the photo of her and Becca.

“May your memory be a blessing.” She whispered, standing a long moment in front of the ofrenda.

She took several deep breaths before moving to her office and booting up her computer. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she’d be able to work on what she was going to say.

Magically managing to plug in the thumb drive into the computer on the first try, Maggie jump startled as a window appeared before she could click on the driver or open any internal folder.

And after a moment, Natasha appeared in the frame. She looked like she had the day She and Steve had come to the farm for the last time when Steve had broken the news, and Maggie could feel tears already start to streak her face.

“Hey, Mags,” Natasha began, addressing the camera directly. “I figure if you’re watching this, then I’ve earned the right to call you that, and we’re beyond asking permission,” she chuckled gently, looking down, she took a deep breath as if trying to find what she wanted to say. “Ummm. I never thought I’d get a chance to leave one of these. I never really had anyone to leave something like this to. But I figured if anyone deserved to get a final message from me, it would be you.” Natasha cleared her throat. “I don’t know if what I’m saying is the _right_ thing, but I hope that it’ll be what you need to hear.” She paused again, and with a heavy sigh, looked up at the camera. “You’re such a good person, Mags. I’ve known that since the first day we met, and even before then, when I read your report on James.” A corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile a moment before it returned to the grim line, the lines of her face stony and firm. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted for me. But I want you to know that this isn’t your fault. You did everything you could, and I appreciate and admire the efforts and lengths you went to, trying to help us move beyond what happened five years ago. But more than anything, I want you to know that your kindness and generosity, and stubborn determination made me want to be a better person. I _am_ a better person for having met and known you. And I’m honored to have been able to call you my friend.”

Tears were blurring Maggie’s vision, and she had both hands clamped over her mouth, trying to keep her shaking shoulders from loosing a sob before she’d finished the video.

“I’d say don’t cry for me, but it would be wrong of me to ask any more of you than you’ve already freely given me, Steve, James, and the world,” She paused. “I don’t want you to give up. Even before I met you, the work you've done is phenomenal, and you should keep going, keep spreading your light, and your hope, and your determination to others. They’re going to need that after we bring everyone back.” Again, Natasha smiled, “To that end, I’ve programmed this thumb drive, upon its insertion in your computer, to initiate a transfer of funds from several of my accounts to the trust you’ve set up to fund your community farm and outreach programs. You and your farm should have enough to keep going for a long time into the future.” She paused, her expression growing serious again. “If you’ve taught me _anything_ in the past nine years, it is that the world would be a better, more peaceful, and more prosperous place if there were more people in it like you. Thank you. It was good to be reminded of what I was fighting for. Be safe, take care, and remember to lock up after you. You never know who might be on the other side of that door.” She made full eye contact with the camera and smiled, “Goodbye.”

The screen went dark, and Maggie sat there, shoulders shaking, tears streaming, feeling even more hurt, upset, and angry than she had before.

Natasha deserved better than this. She’d deserved to live. She deserved to be here to bask in everything she’d accomplished. She deserved to know how loved she was, how much her life had been worth to everyone around her, how much she’d _meant_ to Maggie.

Only she wasn’t. She had died on a cold dead alien planet in pursuit of a _fucking_ stone.

“Goddamn it. God _fucking_ damn it.” Maggie put her head down on the desk and let a few of the sobs escape.

It was the least Maggie could do if she expected to get through the day without totally breaking down. Oh, of course, she wanted to rage, and kick, and scream, and shout, but it would do nothing to ease the aching in her heart or change what had happened.

Was she even _allowed_ to feel this way? After all, Natasha’s sacrifice had enabled over three billion people to come back from the dead.

As Steve had said, what was one life against _trillions_?

But that was it, that was the _point_. If you started thinking that way, then what was two lives, or three lives, or a hundred lives, against the trillions you _might_ save. Where was the line? Beyond that, there was so much that Maggie knew Natasha had left to do, left to learn, left to discover, left to give, left to receive, and now she would never get the chance to do.

It was the tragedy of any death, but one that Maggie felt keenly with Natasha’s death.

People didn’t just walk away from her line of work, Natasha had said, or something like that what felt like eons ago back when they’d been looking for Bucky. Yet, with Natasha’s help, Maggie had been able to walk away and walk back to the life that she’d been fighting for. Perhaps, in her own way, Maggie had hoped to help Natasha escape the kind of premature death people in ‘her line of work’ customarily experienced. She’d failed with Riley, Sam, and Bucky, even with the patients she’d lost to suicide, PTSD, and drug use. But maybe she’d somehow hoped that she could help Steve and Nat. Maybe she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to lose them too.

But she’d been wrong, and just like with everyone else, she’d have to figure out how to pick up the pieces and move along. Just as she had over the past five years and much much further beyond that.

After a moment, she wiped her eyes, her breathing returning to something approaching a more regular pattern, and stepped out into the living room. Scooping her phone up off the coffee table in front of the couch, she walked back toward the kitchen where Suzanne, Bill, Mike, and Mitchel were already waiting for her.

“You’re early.” She announced as she moved to the coffee pot, which still had a bit of this morning’s remaining dregs.

“Not falling back into that bad habit, are you?” Suzanne asked dryly, with a pointed look at the coffee pot.

Maggie rolled her eyes, sticking out her tongue. “I was going to dump it and make a fresh batch for after the service, if you must know,” She answered, pouring the old stale coffee down the drain. “Did you bring the tree, Mitchel?” Maggie asked over her shoulder, trying to ignore that all eyes were on her. She probably looked like hell. She could imagine that she did. Instead, she focused on filling up the pot and pouring it into the coffee maker, it wasn’t stovetop or campfire coffee, but when there was a crowd, you had to do what you had to do.

“I did. We have a hole dug for it where you said you wanted it to go. You want us to go ahead and plant it now?” He replied.

“Place it in the hole. We’ll have mourners scoop in a shovel of dirt over the roots. Then we’ll fill it in the rest of the way afterward.” She explained as she scooped coffee grounds into the filter before setting a timer for the coffee to brew.

“Sounds good, boss.” Mitchel nodded.

No one said anything else. This was always hard. It was always hard to know what to say after a friend's death, of a family member, and there wasn’t even a body. There _hadn’t_ been bodies five years ago either, yet somehow they’d managed. All the same, it seemed wrong that Natasha didn’t even have the dignity of being brought home to rest after spending a lifetime without roots, without a place to call home and a family to care for her.

So instead, they were planting a tree for her, a red maple whose leaves would turn a brilliant bright red in the early autumn. They were giving her roots and giving her a family that would help her grow and flourish. Maggie only wished she could do more, that she could’ve done more. Yet Natasha’s message rung out in her mind. _It’s not your fault…you did everything you could._

_But if I’d been better, more, faster, smarter, enough, you might still be alive._

Maggie shook her head like she was trying to shake herself out of a fog. “What’s the next step, Ramirez?” Bill asked.

“Chairs set up?”

“Yup.”

“Buffet tables, napkins, silverware, condiments, and drinks?”

“Diego and Alecia had that taken care of.”

“Animals?”

“Suzanne’s got it covered.”

“Seating? For afterward?”

For every question or suggestion, Bill, Suzanne, Mike, and Mitchel had an answer, and it was like they knew what she was going to ask before it even came out of her mouth. After a few more minutes of rapid-fire questions, Maggie slumped down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table and pulled a notepad toward her.

“So, do you know what you’re going to say?” Bill inquired finally after the kitchen faded into a dull silence.

“No.” She said, feeling the leaden dread fill the single syllable.

“You should take a minute. Clear your head and write down a few notes. We’re going to take care of everything else.” Mike interjected.

Maggie nodded, exhaling slowly.

“Have you eaten?”

“Mike, if I eat anything right now, I’m going to throw up.”

“Have some of the fruit salad, and drink some water with a twist of lemon.” He said. “Any word from Dani?”

“No.” Maggie paused, wincing. “Yes. She said she was on her way. No update as to her eta.”

“I’m amazed she got away, all things being equal,” Mike commented.

“She shouldn’t be taking time away from Alejandra.” Maggie shook her head.

“That was her call to make,” Mike said, setting the glass of water and bowl of fruit on the table in front of her. “We all know what Romanoff meant to you. And in a way, she was our friend too. We’re glad to be here to help you memorialize her.”

 _Right. That._ How the hell was she supposed to enunciate what Natasha Romanoff had meant to her when Maggie had only been privy to a few very narrow aspects of the woman’s life. How was she supposed to talk to Natasha’s colleagues and friends, and everyone else in between about a woman that Maggie had just only begun to start to know?

God, she wanted to talk to Bucky. He’d know what she should say about Natasha. She could only imagine what he was feeling. Yes, sure, he and Natasha were (or had been) assassins and knew that death and risk was part of the job. All the same, it didn’t mean it was easy or that Bucky wasn’t hurting and grieving.

And they’d both been too busy to talk about it or talk about anything. _God._ She wished she had more time. Only she didn’t, and the window for her to come up with something beautiful and inspiring and befitting such a wonderful and complicated woman was rapidly closing.

So she ate the fruit and drank the water and jotted down some quick notes, trying desperately to organize her thoughts enough to hopefully be coherent.

Maggie was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the door open and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Sam’s voice. “What are you doing still hanging around this trouble maker Davidson?”

“Wilson, Good to see you, son.” Bill rose, and he and Sam embraced. The kitchen erupted into a round of greetings and hugs as Mike, Suzanne, Bill, and Sam saw one another for the first time in almost eleven years.

“Mike. How you doin’ been keeping her in line and out of trouble?”

“It’s a full-time job. Good to see you, man!”

“Hey now, hey now.” Maggie interjected, “who gave any of you permission to gang up on me like this?” Maggie asked with a broad smile.

“Permission? Who put you in charge?” Sam shot back, giving her a quick wink.

Maggie rolled her eyes and was about to interject when Mitchel cut in from the back door, “People are starting to show up. Can I get some help directing traffic?”

“Yeah. We should all start heading that way.” Maggie agreed, and there was a general consensus as everyone started moving toward the door.

Well. Nearly everyone.

Pausing, she glanced over at Sam, who was hanging back. “You gonna come?”

“I’ll be right behind you.” He motioned over his should to Bucky, who was standing with his back to them in front of the ofrenda.

‘He O.K?’ She motioned.

Sam made the ‘so-so’ motion with his hand before adding. “We’ll be right behind.”

And just like that, Maggie knew the discussion was closed. Besides, regardless of if she liked it or not, She was being pulled about 25 different directions, and 24 of them were away from Bucky and Sam.

Maggie nodded in acknowledgment with a heavy sigh.

_We’ll get our time. We just all have to make it through today and tomorrow._

Ripping out pages from the notepad, she shoved them into the pocket of her blazer and walked out the back door toward the tsunami of activity and the chaos at the center of it all.

-

There was a lot of noise and commotion in the kitchen behind him. Wilson was at the center of it all, as was Mags. Bucky had rather hoped that the house would be empty so he’d get a moment to breathe before the memorial.

It had already been a long day. Stark’s funeral had been…interesting. He hadn’t been sure he was invited or even wanted, but Wilson had convinced him to go.

 _‘Don’t make me go to this thing on my own. Steve’s doing his thing with the rest of the Avengers. I can’t stand going to funerals by myself._ ’

And so he’d found something _moderately_ suitable for funeral wear, and he and Wilson, and Steve had loaded up in the car, leaving Mags to get ready for Natasha’s memorial.

He should’ve stayed. He wouldn’t be quite so on edge if he’d stayed, and maybe he and Mags would’ve gotten a chance to talk.

The last week and a half had been unending chaos: organized, unorganized, and otherwise. A lot of it reminded him of being back with the Howling Commandoes, Steve, in the middle of it all. It was familiar, yet, certain things were new. The heavy weight on Steve’s shoulders that he carried around with him while he was in uniform, the tinge of bitter pessimism in his voice, the general world-weariness, and crushing exhaustion.

 _What the hell happened?_ Bucky had wanted to ask on more than one occasion. But in his heart, Bucky knew what had happened. For five years, Steve and Natasha had lived with the guilt of losing half the universe, and for five years had been unable to do anything about it.

That had never been an easy thing for either Natasha or Steve. There was always something more you could do. There was always a way out, always a way to survive and fight and achieve your objective.

That loss, that failure that had done something to them, Bucky had no doubt. It had driven them to a suicide mission. It had cost Natasha her life, but Bucky had a growing suspicion that it had cost Steve something else.

But there hadn’t been time to ask, hadn’t been a moment to breathe, and rest, and start to unpack and process everything that had happened. It was why he was standing here in front of the ofrenda, rather than outside with Steve talking to the other mourners arriving or in the kitchen with Wilson, talking with Mags and Bill Davidson, Mike, or Suzanne.

His eyes scanned the rows of pictures until they found the one he was looking for. The one he knew would be there.

The photograph from New Year's Eve was gone, and in its place was a picture of Mags and Tasha. And yet, even as he saw it there, on the ofrenda, he couldn’t quite get his mind to wrap around the concept.

She wasn’t gone. She couldn’t be.

“May her memory be a blessing.” He felt himself mumble, but his voice sounded distant and disembodied.

“Hey, man. You doin’, okay?”

Bucky turned to find Wilson standing a respectful distance away, watching him closely. It wasn’t wariness on his face, but genuine concern. It was more than Bucky could bear, more than he deserved at present.

“Yeah. Fine.” Bucky sniffed, knowing that he wasn’t at all convincing.

“You knew her.” He said. “From your days…before.” He concluded not knowing how to end his sentence.

“Something like that,” Bucky answered, turning his gaze back to the photograph.

Wilson nodded, taking a few more steps until they were shoulder to shoulder, square with the ofrenda. “I never did understand why Mags kept photos of dead people up.” He commented after a moment. “But now that Riley’s been gone eleven years, and after we were gone for five. I’m kinda glad to know that in some small way, she was keeping us alive, at least in her memory. I know she’ll do the same for Nat.”

“Thank you, Wilson.”

“For?”

“Being…there for me today. Stark’s funeral. Just now…it means a lot.” Bucky managed haltingly.

“No problem. Just one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“You _can_ call me Sam. I think we’re there.”

“Fair.” He nodded. “Thank you, _Sam_.”

Before Sam could answer, the front door opened, and both turned to see a tall, beautiful black woman in a conservative black pantsuit and sensible flats walk into the room. _Dani._ Bucky recognized her from the picture, and she stopped short as she spotted them.

She looked momentarily surprised, but took it in stride, “You must be Sam Wilson.” She pointed to Sam, before continued, “Making you Bucky Barnes.”

“Correct on both counts. You must be Daniella.” Sam said, stepping forward and extending a hand to shake hers.

“Lovely to meet you both, Mags told me so much about you.”

 _Mags._ It stabbed at his heart, but he tried to tramp down on the feeling. After all, he wasn’t jealous of Dani. It wasn’t her fault or Mags’s fault or anyone’s fault what had happened. He was just envious of the time they’d gotten together. _Time. Right. Fuck._ It was almost time for the memorial service to begin.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Bucky said, his voice a little gruffer than he meant as he shook her hand. “But we should probably head to the back. I think they’re getting ready to start.”

“How’s she holding up?” Dani asked, glancing between him and Sam as they started through the house and out the back door.

“Between the Stark funeral and getting ready for this, haven’t seen much of her today. It’s been busy.” Sam answered.

“I bet,” Dani replied.

Bucky said nothing, feeling more than a little guilty. How would he know how distraught Mags was? After all, they hadn’t had a moment to have a conversation since he’d gotten back, never mind today when everyone was moving at a thousand miles an hour, yet time didn’t seem to be moving at all.

Besides, what use would he be to her right now, at any rate? What he could he possibly say to her that might make any of today feel less awful?

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he trailed behind them, listening as they talked about social work, and activism, and community outreach, all things well beyond his own area of expertise.

He should’ve expected to meet her today. Natasha had come over ‘infrequently,’ according to Alecia. It would only make sense that Dani would show up to show her respects today.

He wished he had something to say to her, something he could possibly contribute to their conversation, something that might bridge the gap, and make it less awkward. After all, they did both love the same woman, but that was hardly a good conversation starter.

When they arrived at the memorial tree site, there was already a crowd gathering. Most of them he recognized from Stark’s funeral, or they were Mags’s volunteers and children. At the center of it all, surrounded by Steve, Rhodes, Banner, Clint, and Wanda was Mags. They were all somber, but Mags looked especially grim as she listened to whatever it was that Clint and Wanda were telling her, nodding with extreme focus and intent.

Bucky scanned the crowed, uncertain of where he should sit, or what was expected of him, while also trying to avoid making eye contact or drawing too much attention to himself.

“Dani! Sam! Bucky!” Alecia, Sara, and Diego all called, waving them over to a row of seats near the back. “We saved you guys a seat!”

Bucky winced as heads turned to look at them before they returned to their quiet conversation, and he, Sam, and Dani all walked over to where the trio was sitting.

“How thoughtful,” Dani smiled brightly, leading the way as they filed into the row. Sam went next, and he brought up the rear, sitting between Sam and Sara.

Sam and Dani were still talking, leaving Bucky to grasp for straws as he tried to find some way to contribute. “So. You knew mom while she was in Wakanda.” 

He turned to see Sara watching him, her dark eyes intent and focused. “Yeah?” He answered.

“Did she _really_ know King T’Challa?” Sara questioned.

Bucky exhaled slightly. Well, that wasn’t the question he’d expected from her, but it was one that he could answer. “Yes.”

“Told you,” Diego smirked at his sister.

“Shut up, how was I supposed to know that it wasn’t just a photo op or some such.” Sara rolled her eyes.

It sounded like a story, one that neither of the siblings was keen on sharing as they snarked back and forth at one another.

“Hey Sara, how’s Calc?” Dani interjected, which immediately stopped the escalating confrontation.

“Awful,” Sara groaned, “How do they expect us to learn when half the population just blipped back into existence. You’d imagine they would’ve called a week-long holiday or some sh-stuff.”

“Shh. Shut up. We’re starting.” Alecia shushed, and their attention was all immediately directed front where Mags stood upfront, alone in front of the crowd.

She was standing on an apple crate so that she was visible to everyone in the assembled crowd. She surveyed the group, carefully, her eyes searching a moment until she found his and then lingered a moment before ducking her head as she removed some papers from her coat pocket. She swallowed hard, and Bucky could see that her hands were shaking as they grasped the paper.

 _Someone do something._ He couldn’t help but glance at Dani who’s gaze was locked on Mags, her hands clasped together, expression unreadable.

Taking a deep breath and blinking heavily, Mags looked back up to address the crowd. “Thank you all for coming. I know it has been a long and hard day. Still, I am glad that we’ve all gathered here today to remember the life and honor the legacy of Natalia Alianovna Romanoff, The Black Widow, or as I simply knew her, Natasha.” She paused, taking another deep breath. “If you would permit me, I’d like to say a few words, before we plant a tree in her honor as to give all who knew her a chance to reflect, and to remember the numerous ways that Natasha impacted our lives.”

Again there was another pause as if she expected someone to say no before she charged on. “What is there to say of a woman whose life is largely shrouded in mystery, redacted files, and intrigue. She was complicated, stubborn, a survivor, born out of necessity. She was an Avenger, a SHIELD. Agent, a covert operative, yes, but she was also an Aunt, a lover, a friend, a shoulder to cry on, but above all else, she was someone who worked not to let her past define her future. Natasha was someone determined to have good triumph over evil, that right would overcome wrong. And she carried this belief with her, not just out in the theaters of war their battlefields too numerous to name, but in her everyday existence as a woman, as a person, as my friend, and as my hero.” Mags’s throat seized around the last word, and Bucky was almost sure she was going to falter. Rallying magnificently, she continued, “Natasha gave us so much. She gave us hope, gave us a chance at second chances and new beginnings, never once asking for anything in return, never demanding payment from a world that owed her so much.”

Mags swallowed, her hands shaking as she manipulated her notes, “In the wake of her death, and the return of so many we lost five years ago, I would ask you only one thing on her behalf. For a woman who lived so much of her life in the shadows, let her legacy, life, and sacrifice be spoken, let her name be said around the world, and her story translated into every tongue imaginable. The world has lost a titan that few knew walked among us, and to heal from that loss, we must remember all that she gave us.” Then, Mags’s gaze fell on him again, their eyes locking, and Bucky could see the faintest hint of a small, sad smile on her features. “Healing is remembering, and remembering is in the telling. May her memory be a blessing, and may her story never die.” She said, breaking her gaze away from his and glancing around the crowd.

“I would invite you to come up and place a shovel or two of dirt atop the roots of this that we are planting in her honor. To give her roots, and help her grow, in our minds and our hearts.”

Mags turned, and shoving the paper back into her jacket pocket, stepped from the apple crate, and picked up the shovel beside the open hole where the tree had been set. She turned first to Steve, who shoveled the first mound of dirt on top of the exposed roots, before handing it off to Clint who, after shoveling four small piles into the hole, passed it off to Banner, then Rhodes took his turn, then Danvers, then Okoye, and Nebula, and Fury, and Maria Hill. On and on, and on it went, as people who had known and loved Natasha came to pay their respects. He wanted to join the line of mourners and nearly did as Sam walked forward, but he stopped himself. Theirs had never been a relationship for the world. It had been a quiet, private, secret thing, and so it would remain, even now.

So he stayed back with Diego, Sara, Alecia, and Dani, who stood back a respectful distance until near the end when they too went and added their own pile to the growing mound surrounding the base of the tree.

He watched as Dani and Mags hugged, exchanging quick words before Dani headed back toward the vehicles, with a quick goodbye to him, and Sam and the kids as she went. Then the kids went to Mags and gave her a hug, followed by Bill Davidson, Mike, and Suzanne, who each immersed Mags in a big embrace.

Bucky knew he should go to her. He knew he should offer her his condolences. He knew he should say something, do something, do _anything,_ but he felt frozen to the spot. The flurry of people, and activity, and voices, washing over him and rendering him mute.

“Hey, Buck.” He looked over to see Steve standing beside him, taking in the same scene, and the rush of people as they chatted with one another, hugging and crying and grieving the loss of their friend and colleague.

“Hey, Steve.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve continued. “I know we haven’t had much time to ourselves lately.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder at one of the outbuildings just past the barn. “If you want.”

Bucky nodded. He needed a break from people, but he wanted the chance to talk to Steve more than anything. The man had been distant. Of course, Bucky had assumed that it was the loss of Stark and Natasha and the stress of clean up, and working to deal with the aftermath of almost four billion people popping back into existence. Yet, as they slipped away from the crowd unnoticed and walked over the metal garage, Bucky had a feeling that something else was going on, and that if he didn’t take this moment with Steve, he might not get another.

Opening the doors a few feet, Steve slipped inside, flicking on the lights, Bucky following behind him.

It was the machine shop, Bucky realized as they entered, and old rusted tractors parts, and car engines, and machine components sat around in a state of organized chaos. There were tools and jacks, and all manner of metalworking implements. In the center of the room was what Bucky assumed was a motorcycle, shrouded in a cover that Steve gravitated toward wordlessly.

“How are you holding up?” Steve asked as he put his hand on what looked to be the handlebars of the covered motorcycle.

It wasn’t a question Bucky could answer, honestly, and what Steve was looking for in his answer he didn’t know. “How are _you_ holding up?” Bucky countered. It was a weak deflection, but he didn’t feel as though he could properly enunciate everything that was going on in his head.

Steve sighed, nodding in understanding and mutual, general, world-weariness. “I can’t believe they’re gone.” He said simply after a moment.

“Yeah.” That certainly was one way to put it, and in general, it was a hard, hard thing to stomach. Regardless of his relationship with Natasha or his history with Stark, Bucky knew what a massive impact they’d both had on Steve’s life. Yet, Bucky knew that wasn’t why Steve had brought them over here.

“Thought you’d be interested to see this,” Steve commented, pulling back the cover of the motorcycle sitting in the center of the garage.

“Is that from?”

“1943? Yeah.” Steve breathed. “I told Mags to hold onto it for me when we made the jump. But since you’re back, I thought you might want it.” He said vaguely.

“Steve, It’s beautiful, but what about you, don’t you want it?”

There was a long pause before Steve spoke again. “I’ve been thinking about tomorrow.” He began slowly, his eyes focused on the ground. “I don’t think I’m coming back.”

“What are you talking about? You guys did this before. And this time, it should be much easier, since you’re just putting everything back.” Bucky said, in what he could only hope was an upbeat and positive tone. Yet, even as he said it, he knew that’s not what Steve had meant.

“I don’t think I _should_ come back.” Steve continued after a beat of silence.

Bucky didn’t know what to say, so he just stood there in the quiet, waiting to see what would come next. “For the past five years, I thought of nothing else but getting everyone back, undoing the Avenger’s failure, putting the world back on the right track. Whatever the cost. Whatever it would take to fix it.” Steve grimaced. “And I always thought it would be me, laying down my life, making the sacrifice play, trading my life so that others could live. But it never was. Never is. And it cost us Natasha and Tony. And sure, I guess we could argue what are two lives against trillions? But I think that if I’m starting to think like that---if I’m starting to justify what is or isn’t acceptable collateral damage, or loss. Who knows what I might justify as being acceptable next time.”

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to put his thoughts in order before he continued. “Then put down the shield. Walk away from being Captain America, you don’t have to maroon yourself in time, Steve, to stop being Cap.” Bucky reasoned. “This was never supposed to be a forever thing.”

Steve shook his head with a weak chuckle. “Do you really think I could actually do that?” He asked, looking up to meet his gaze. “Do you really think I could walk away, forever? Knowing that there’ll always be a need for a Captain America?”

“And what about Steve Rogers? There’s more to you than just being Captain America, Steve.”

At this, Steve sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging. “You know Ramirez said almost the same thing. Both before she left the compound, and the night before we made the jump to get the stones.” He shook his head. “She always sounded just like Becca, just like _you_ when she said it, too.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Again Steve sighed. “I know. I guess I just don’t know who that is anymore, and I don’t think I could be him here. Don’t think I’d allow myself to be him here. If the past five years is any indication.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Bucky asked.

“When we made the jump, Tony and I, we had to go back to the 70s, back to Fort Leigh, while I was there, I saw her Buck. I was in her office, and I saw her, and she had a photo of me on her desk.” He rushed out, words almost running together as he explained.

But Of course, _Her_. He meant Margaret Carter. That was the only _her_ he’d mentioned to Bucky since Vienna, (aside from the brief thing Steve and Sharon Carter had shared). Beyond being the only woman Steve repeatedly referred to, Bucky happened to know what Carter meant to Steve. She was the culmination of all of Steve’s hopes and dreams and what-ifs for what might have been. And now Steve had that chance to go back and try to make a go at what had always been nothing more than a ‘what could have been,’ a reality. It was a long shot. It was absolutely insane. But Bucky knew that Steve couldn't be swayed, not when all of the 'what-ifs' were on the line.

“So, 1945, then?” Bucky asked.

“1949.” Steve corrected. Then, hesitating only a moment, he continued, “and I want you to come with me, Buck. Can you imagine it? The slow life? Peace?”

At this, something in Bucky’s chest twinged. _Peace._ He _could_ imagine it. It had been the thing he’d been looking for, striving for, trying to grasp firmly. He could go back and see his family, his parents, his sisters. He could see Becca, ease their pain from what they’d thought had been his passing.

Yet, he couldn’t help but think of what Mags had told him, about what Becca had said, about it being better that they both remembered one another as they had been. Would he really want his family to see what the world, what Hydra had made of him? Would he be able to find peace in the past, unable to affect any real change for better or for worse? Could he live with himself if he did that?

“Have you told Sam or Mags about this?” Bucky deflected Steve’s question, knowing that he couldn’t give Steve an answer. Not right now. He needed time to think.

“No.” Steve shook his head.

“Don’t you think they’d want to know about this plan of yours? Sam just got back. Steve. You do know how _drastic_ this is, right?” Bucky said, trying to keep himself together as he spoke. The whole thing was crazy, Steve saw how crazy this was right?

“Ramirez wouldn’t understand,” Steve said gravely. “And if it doesn’t work, or something horrible happens. I’d rather they _didn’t_ know.”

 _But they’re your friend Steve. This is fucking crazy._ But Bucky didn’t say it, because he knew there was a small part of him that understood where Steve was coming from, that understood that urge, that desire, that compulsion to go back to a place and time before the world had made them into what they were now. And a larger part of Bucky than he ever wanted to admit wanted to go with him.

“And the world won’t be without Captain America.” Steve continued.

“Oh?” Bucky managed, trying to hold onto the thread of the conversation as his mind spun at the revelation of all that Steve was saying.

“Sam. I can’t think of anyone who deserves the shield more or anyone who could be Captain America in this new world like he could.”

Bucky nodded. Honestly, he couldn’t agree more. Sam was the ideal candidate, the only candidate that could even begin to fill Steve’s shoes. And Steve was just going to leave without saying goodbye? That seemed unfair to all parties involved, but especially for Sam. Sam, the man who had been Steve’s partner, the man who had gone on the run for Steve, and who had just come back into the world only to have Steve leave, never mind leave him with the responsibility of being Captain America? Without any warning or discussion? It didn’t seem right.

Yet, despite himself, Bucky could also see Steve’s logic: if it didn’t work, nobody needed to know what the plan _had_ been.

“So?” Bucky looked up to see Steve watching him expectantly.

“Steve I—”

“Hey, guys?” They both turned to see Mags walk into view between the cracked doors of the shed. She paused, glancing between them uncertainly. “Dinner’s up if you’re ready. There’s plenty to eat, but you’re fighting Banner and Rocket for food. So the sooner you get a plate, the better.”

“Sounds good, we’ll be right there,” Steve answered.

Mags nodded, glancing again between them, her eyes locking with his, and Bucky could see she was trying to puzzle through what it was that she’d just walked into. With another nod, she turned and walked back the way that she’d come.

They waited a moment until her footsteps had faded before Steve closed the gap between them, putting his hand on Bucky’s right shoulder. “Think on it.”

Firmly squeezing his shoulder, Steve dropped his hand to his side and slipped from the garage, leaving Bucky alone in the silence.

He emerged back out into the late afternoon air, the noise of the assembled mourners was still subdued as it had been before, but now with an edge of levity and celebration.

Bucky floated through it all, his body on autopilot as his brain tried to fight through everything Steve had just told him. He collected a plate and ate dinner, but found that he couldn’t focus long enough to try and engage in conversation, never mind try to make conversation of his own.

What he really needed was quiet and a place to think. It wasn’t going to happen down here. So, excusing himself, he slipped away and made his way back up to the house, his mind noisy, his head spinning. Walking into the house through the back door, he stopped as he saw Mags standing alone in the kitchen, blazer draped over the back of a kitchen chair, her sleeves rolled up, an ice cube pressed against her forearm. Her head was tipped back, eyes closed, her mouth moving silently.

Had she heard him come in? If she had, she made no indication of it, and for half a moment, Bucky thought about backing away to leave her in peace. Yet something stopped him. Was it that he wanted to talk to her?

Yes. Absolutely. He wanted nothing more than to talk through the absolutely batshit plan of Steve’s, have an outside opinion on what he was thinking and feeling. But all that aside, he couldn’t help but notice how exhausted she looked, just physically and emotionally raw, like an exposed nerve. He wanted to pull her to him and hold her close and just protect her.

“Bucky?”

She was looking at him now, her eyes glassy. “Mags—I—”

“Hey, boss.”

Davidson’s voice cut in, “A few of your guests are getting ready to leave and wanted me to come find you so they can say goodbye.”

“Thanks, Bill,” She answered, dropping the half-melted ice cube in the sink and shake drying her hands, turned to the door.

Bucky sidestepped to give her a clear path to the door. To his surprise, she stopped, resting her right hand a moment on his chest. “I’m sorry, Bucky.” She said, a heaviness to her voice that he hadn’t expected.

“I know, Mags.” And without another word, she dropped her hand to her side and continued out the back door.

Much to Bucky’s surprise and dismay, Davidson didn’t follow behind her and instead continued into the kitchen and then to the fridge. “Take a seat, son.”

Bucky blinked as he realized the man was speaking to him.

“Want some milk?” He asked, removing a jug of milk and pouring a glass.

“No, thanks.” Bucky managed.

“Suit yourself.” Davidson shrugged. “I know Ramirez always keeps something sweet around. Cookies. Or otherwise.” He riffled through the cabinets a moment before he recovered a package of Oreos, and settling down at the kitchen table, gave him an appraising look. “So you’re really him, huh? The Winter Soldier.”

“Yes, sir.” Bucky shifted uneasily, unsure of where the conversation was headed.

“You know. A lot of us had a pretty good idea of what we thought had happened.” He continued unprompted. “Boss had taken in a dangerous, feral stray, and that stray murdered her and burned the house to the ground to cover his tracks.”

Bucky’s chest tightened, his stomach clenching at how casually he said that, just blasé matter of fact. Yet, he knew the man wasn’t finished. “After that nonsense in Vienna with your face plastered everywhere, it more or less settled it.”

Bucky braced, still waiting for the point, watching as Davidson ate a few cookies and took a long draw of milk from his tall glass. “Imagine our surprise, a few months after half the population up and disappeared, when who comes back but Magdalene Ramirez.” He shook his head. “Hell of a thing. A miracle, really. Not only did she come back, but she came back with a plan for how to make it better, to help make the world work, or at least make our corner of it work. Ambitious, extremely ambitious, but by god did she make it work through her sweat, blood, and tears. She made an Eden here, a paradise.” Davidson paused, looking up to meet his gaze for the first time. “She never told us the whole story. Bits and pieces here and there, about the four-year soul searching trip she took, but it doesn’t take a genius to work out the large role you played, good, bad, and otherwise.” He took another large drink from the glass, finishing it off. “Now. I know that a lot has changed since you two last saw one another. A whole hell of a lot changed between the time she left us and the time she came back. I also know the look of a man ready to run.” Davidson paused, allowing a beat of silence to fill the room between them. “After everything that woman went through because of you and for you, whatever you do, make sure she knows it was worth it.”

Then, without further prompting, Davidson rose, crossed the kitchen, rinsed out the glass, and stowed it in the dishwasher. “Hope to see you around sometime.”

And then, Bucky was alone.

_Fuck._

He could feel himself shaking. How the hell did the old man know? Had he overheard Steve and him talking? Was his poker face just that bad? Or did Davidson just have a good hunch?

Bucky didn’t know, but his words felt like a gut punch. _Whatever you do, make sure she knows it was worth it._

_Fuck._

Everything hurt, his body throbbed, his chest ached, his head spun. The whole day had felt like one gut punch after another, and he was fighting to keep himself together. It was a lot to process: closing doors, missed connections, what-ifs, and now a chance to go back, back to his time to live in peace.

Was it his time? Would he find peace? Could he find peace knowing that the winter soldier—that he was out there and that there was nothing Bucky could do to stop himself from wreaking so much havoc? Would he find peace unable to undo what he had done?

Yet, what kind of life was waiting for him here? It had been five years. The people, the connections, the life he’d been building was gone, replaced by something beautiful and new, but fundamentally without a place for him. What path could he forge? What peace could he find?

Steve wanted to go home. Bucky wasn’t sure where home was for him anymore.

_If you go, you’ll never know if you made the right choice. Are you willing to forfeit choice for certainty?_

Could he live with that?

Bucky sighed, the weight and trials of the day settling firmly on his chest, making it hard to breathe. Moving from the kitchen to the living room, he sunk down on the couch, facing the mantle, and dragged the blanket off the back of the couch onto his lap.

Removing both gloves, he held the blanket in both hands, running his fingers over the fiber, trying to recall the feeling of warmth of a Wakandan spring night as he lay out under the stars with her.

It had been a long time, and he could see the five years of wear on the blanket: the spills, the snags, the stains, and general wear and tear. The effects of living. The effects of being well-loved.

Or at least that’s what he supposed the case to be.

Looking away from the blanket, he lifted his eyes to meet the gaze of his younger self. Sitting on the mantle, smiling out at him, bright-eyed and unaware of what the world was going to do to him.

Yet, it wasn’t his younger self that drew his gaze, but instead, he looked a long moment at the face of his younger sister, bright and smiling, though if the photo had been in color, it would’ve revealed a tinge of red on her cheeks and around her eyes from when she’d been weeping minutes before.

Becca had lived a long, prosperous, and full life with as much joy and happiness as heartbreak and sorrow. And in the end, when she knew she was dying, she’d made her peace. _Perhaps it’s better to remember each other as we were, not what the world made of us._ That’s what she’d told Mags, shortly before her passing.

What comfort would his presence in the past bring to anyone other than himself? How comfortable would he be, traversing the world as a disabled bi Jewish man in the United States during the 40s, 50s, 60s, and beyond? What would he be giving up if he stayed here? What would he be losing if he went back?

What would his absence do to those he left behind?

Bucky felt as though he was back in the outbuilding all those years ago, bleeding and injured, and confused and hurting and scared. His only instinct was to run. But he remembered what running had done. What running had cost, not just him, but Mags and Sam and Steve and the world. But it was different this time. Mags had a house and a family and kids. Sam would be Cap,’ and he and Steve would be back where they were from, back in time where they belonged. What did Mags, or Sam, or the Wakandans, or anyone need him for anyway?

But, perhaps that was the wrong question. Maybe the question he _should_ be asking is, what did he have left to give? What could he build, create, do here that he wouldn’t get to do if he went back with Steve? Where could he be able to earn and find his peace?

“Hey, Buck.”

Bucky turned his head to see Steve standing in the archway between the kitchen and living room. How long he’d been standing there, Bucky didn’t know, but by the look in Steve’s eyes, Bucky knew it had been long enough. “Hey, Steve.”

“You okay?”

_How could he possibly ask me that question right now?_

“Needed a quiet place to think.” He answered.

“No better place than Ramirez’s couch.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Nat, Sam, Ramirez, and I spent a lot of time on that couch when we were looking for you.” He paused, his expression going somber. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

“No. Not at all.” Bucky replied. “Are things winding down?” He continued as Steve sat down beside him.

“Some,” Steve said as he put his arms across Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky leaned against Steve. “Want some of the blanket?” He asked after a moment.

“I’m fine, but thanks, Buck.”

“Sure, Steve. No problem.” Bucky tried to push the events of the day out of his mind.

He tried not to think about the nagging sensation at the back of his mind, pulling and tugging and trying to unravel all of the work he’d done in Wakanda to help him process all of this…this…stuff. He just wanted to enjoy this moment, enjoy what could possibly be the last moments like this he’d share with Steve, ever. But even _he_ knew that Steve was waiting for his answer. Steve wouldn’t push or prod, or pry, but even Bucky knew that Steve needed an answer, needed to know. Furthermore, Bucky knew, that like it or not, he had his response.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. Your offer.” Bucky began slowly after a long moment of silence.

“Yeah?”

“I love you. I’ll always love you.” He took a deep breath, trying to find the will and the strength to say what needed to be said. “But I can’t go. There’s still too much for me to do.”

“I know, Buck.” Steve didn’t move, there wasn’t a hitch in his breath, and Bucky knew that Steve had known all along that Bucky was never going to say yes.

 _You should stay, dumbass. We can train Sam to be Cap,’ and you can find peace here._ Bucky wanted to say, but he didn’t. It wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t sway Steve from his current course just as Steve knew that nothing he could say would convince Bucky to go back in time with him.

Of course, Bucky understood Steve’s reasoning. He didn’t necessarily agree with him, but he did understand. Maybe understanding was enough, maybe that’s what Steve needed, and so because Bucky loved Steve, he would let Steve go without a fight. Not because it was the right thing to do, but because it was what Steve needed from him, it would possibly be the last thing that Steve would ever ask of him, and Bucky wasn’t about to let Steve down.

“I love you, Buck. Nothing will ever change that.” Steve paused. “You going to be okay here? In this strange new world?”

 _As if my answer would change your mind?_ Bucky wanted to bite out, but didn’t, and instead shook his head with a low chuckle. “I get the feeling I’m not going to be the only one trying to figure my shit out.” He answered wryly. Bucky hesitated a moment before asking, “Are you going to be okay, in the past?”

“Only one way to find out.” He replied.

A typical Steve non-answer answer. Yet, he wasn’t wrong. There was only one way to find out. Yet, it still wasn’t sitting right with Bucky that Steve was going to leave without telling Sam and Mags goodbye. After all, Steve had been Sam’s partner and a part of Mags’s life for the last nine years. It seemed wrong that Steve would just leave without so much as a goodbye or an explanation. Sure, Steve had said the fewer people knew what the plan was, the better, should the plan go ill. But if Bucky knew anything, it was the possibility that the plan might not go well that made it all the more important to tell people you cared about or even loved what you were planning on doing. Was Steve worried about how they’d take it? Or was he convinced that they’d talk him out of jumping back in time? He didn’t blame them. He wanted to take Steve by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, but it was no use. Bucky knew Steve had his mind made up.

“Hey. There you guys are.” It was Sam.

“Hey,” Steve said as they both sat up and turned to the entryway between the kitchen and living room where Sam was standing, coat over his shoulder, looking the perfect picture of ease.

“Party’s died down. Everything’s been cleaned up. We were wondering where you two went.” He said, continuing into the living room. “You mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Bucky answered probably a little too quickly, as he rose to his feet. “I was actually going to go for a walk. Need a little bit of air to clear my head and unwind for the day.” He glanced between Steve and Sam. “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.” He said. “See you in the morning? Steve?”

“See you in the morning, Buck,” Steve answered.

Bucky nodded and started for the back door. “Yeah. See you in the morning, man,” Sam’s voice called behind him as he made it to the screen porch door.

Bucky could hear the sounds of Mags and Diego’s voice coming from down by the barn where the last lonely vehicle was parked, headlights on. Bucky could make out the two figures standing in the glow of the headlights.

He turned and started walking in the opposite direction. He needed space. He needed air. He needed a chance to think. The stars were bright, and the moon was coming up, a tinge of a cool breeze sweeping over the farm, making the leaves on the trees rustle, and he walked in a winding path around the property, just letting his feet guide him, his other senses acutely aware of his surroundings as his mind spun.

He’d stay away until everyone went to bed. It would give Steve a chance to talk to Mags and Sam. Steve would tell Mags and Sam what was going on, wouldn’t he?

Bucky wanted to believe it, but even he knew it was a fool’s hope. So what was stopping him from telling Sam and Mags? Bucky didn’t know, and he felt as though he was being torn in two, trying to understand and failing to come to a compromise that would satisfy both his basic instincts.

 _It’s not my secret to tell, and I don’t want any part of that._ He decided finally.

It wasn’t a good compromise, and he knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, but it was what Steve wanted, and he would do this thing for Steve. One. Last. Thing. For Steve.

Walking until his legs were sore, and his back ached, Bucky stopped and realized that he was standing back at Natasha’s tree, the soil damp and soft around the base of its trunk.

Tasha would know what to say, would know what to do, would know how to begin to make this right. Or at the very least, she would start punching things until she found someone who could make it right. Steve would’ve listened to Tasha. But she wasn’t here. And she never would be again, because she’d given her life for him, for all of them. 

The wrongness of the whole situation caught in his chest and sinking to the ground, Bucky let the tears of the day start to stream. They didn’t come out as sobs. He didn’t wail. He just let a very steady stream of tears slip down his face and drip from his chin.

It had been a day of goodbyes, and tomorrow he’d have to steel himself for one more. Then after that, maybe he and Mags would get their time, maybe, he might be able to make things right after Steve’s sudden abrupt departure.

Maybe. Or maybe not.

There was only uncertainty in his future. Yet, Bucky also knew there would also be choice and a chance to forge a future for himself. And that’s what he’d wanted. That’s what he’d always wanted, since the beginning, since he’d first escaped Hydra.

That was right, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look guys, even I'll admit that a LOT of this chapter was just me starring directly into the screen and saying WTF Marvel about Endgame. A lot of this is also me being frustrated that the narrative hasn't given Mags and Bucky a break as of yet (which yanno is kinda on me, but ALSO really on how Endgame was structured). But I promise, we have time, and they will get their break. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I really wanted to give Natasha a proper send-off (since again we didn't get that in the FREAKIN movie), and I wanted Bucky and Steve to have a chance to have *that* conversation. There will be plenty more discussion about Steve and that decision in the remaining chapters, but I hope you all appreciated/liked/were satisfied with what I came up with.
> 
> We are just a few chapters out from the big finale, and I can't wait to share what I have planned for everyone.


	8. Endings and Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way, shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> TW: Lots of swearing. Like. A LOT.
> 
> Recommended Listening: Friends Never Say Goodbye by Elton John; Silence by Marshmello  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=bxihLY1PQJekoEYmdP9aBw

Maggie woke up with a strange knot in the pit of her stomach. Something strange was going on, but she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly was bothering her.

Sure, the whole situation was damn strange, but Maggie felt _uneasy_.

It had been a hectic day, but one that Maggie felt, by in large, had been tremendously cathartic. Having everyone around who’d known and loved Natasha had been heartening, as was the reception to the tree they’d planted for her, and all of the kind words of condolence. It had been good to grieve, collectively, as a community for someone who had meant to so much to them.

She wished she’d have had a chance to visit with more people, but she’d gotten to see Dani briefly, and it had been good to have her kids and friends from the farm around. It was also nice to have some of her house back, now that her kids had decided to give her a bit of time and space since the immediate surge of post “blip” chaos had ebbed away.

Yet, in the stillness of the dawn light, Maggie puzzle through a very pecular scene as it had played out in the garage when she’d walked over to tell Bucky and Steve that food was ready.

 _What the hell did I walk in on yesterday?_ She couldn’t help but wonder. The grave expressions, both Bucky and Steve had been wearing, and their low tones were understandable. Some of this could, of course, be explained by grief. After all, they’d buried Stark and said goodbye to Natasha. Yet, there had been tension too in their expressions, and in the way that they’d immediately clammed up when she’d walked into the garage.

She hadn’t been able to get Bucky alone since they’d shown back up at the ranch, farm, thing and whether that was on accident or by design, Maggie knew that if she could just get five minutes with Bucky to talk about whatever the hell was going on, it might make more sense. If she could’ve gotten more than a few seconds with him yesterday, then maybe she could settle her stomach and go back to being _glad_ that everyone was back.

Maggie checked her phone and found a text from Dani waiting for her. ‘How’s it going over there?’

‘Fine. Things are weird with Bucky and Steve. Thank you for coming yesterday. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to really talk. How did meeting the boys go?’

‘Fine. I think? Sam’s a character. He’s exactly how you described him. Couldn’t quite get a read on Bucky, though.’

‘I think he’s taking the whole thing a little bit harder than Sam.’

‘That makes sense.’

‘How’s Alejandra?’

‘She’s adjusting. She’s feeling pretty shocked about the whole thing. She said she wanted to come yesterday, but I felt that would’ve been a lot for everyone involved.’

‘Yeah. Better to meet her in less hectic circumstances.’

‘Yeah. I thought so too. ’

Maggie paused, glancing at the clock. It was 5:30 am. She cracked a small smile before typing. ‘Dani. It’s early, what are you doing up? Or are you still working on farmer time?’

‘Just thinking about you. Hoping you’re finding time to take care of yourself, too.’ Dani answered.

She sighed nodding. _Okay. Fair point._ ‘I’m doing my best. Just want to make sure everyone is okay. Or as close to it as possible.’

‘I know. But you gotta cut yourself some slack. It’s all going to take time, Mags. Give them, and yourself, time.’

‘I know. Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it. I love you.’

‘I love you too. We’ll talk soon.’

Maggie rolled over onto her back and exhaled with a strangled sigh, pressing the heel of her hands against her eyes.

Of course, Becky wouldn’t be around for _months_ at the going rate, and with all of the commotion, Maggie was feeling pretty stranded.

_We’ll all get a chance to relax for a bit after Steve returns the stones. Hold out until then. Everything’s going to be okay._

That’s what she hoped, and that’s what she kept telling herself, and yet the knot continued to twist in her stomach, stabbing at her lungs. Something was very wrong. Or, at the very least, something was _wrong._ And maybe if she had more than maybe half a goddamn minute alone with Bucky, she might be able to figure it all out and make some sense of everything.

Only she hadn’t, and she wouldn’t until Steve and them tied up some loose ends. So she’d just have to get on with her day and wait for them to get back so that she could force an explanation out of them.

Rising, Maggie washed and dressed, doing her best to keep the gnawing churning anxiety in the pit of her stomach from chewing a hole in the lining before she headed downstairs.

Entering the living room, she found Steve standing at the mantle, looking at the photographs sitting there. He was wearing the latest iteration of his Captain America suit, his shoulders broad, his posture straight and rigid, yet there was something… _off_ about his expression. It was his eyes. They were vacant with nothing behind them, no emotion, no feeling, no thoughts, nothing.

Her mind was again drawn to that moment she’d come to the open door of the machine shop, the way that they’d stopped talking and surveyed her with guarded expressions. Something was going on.

“Hey, Steve.” Maggie began slowly, uncertain if she should announce herself or if he’d heard her come in.

“Hey, Ramirez.” He said, turning to face her squarely.

“Where are Sam and Bucky?” She asked, in what she could only hope was a light and casual tone.

“They’re out front arranging transport, and a few other logistical things before we get going.” He explained.

“Oh. Yeah. That makes sense. That you’d be up and at it early.” It felt like her brain was stumbling upstairs after missing a step, working to correct itself before she tripped completely.

“Before we left, I wanted to say thank you.” Steve continued.

“Thank you?”

“I don’t think I ever did say thank you for everything you did, for Nat, setting up and organizing the whole thing for yesterday, for taking care of us over the past week, for trying to take care of me, us, over the past week and a half.” He said. “It’s nice to know there will be someone to take care of them.” He paused, glancing over at the

“Of course,” Maggie said. There was something Steve wasn’t saying, something that he was leaving out, that he was purposefully excluding, something that her brain was frantically trying to piece together out of the barest of fragments of data.

“I also wanted to say thank you for reminding me,” He paused, and for the first time in the entire conversation, there was something in his eyes, some hint of emotion, some modicum of feeling. “For reminding me that there’s more to me than just being Captain America.”

“Of course, Steve.” She nodded earnestly.

“I’m going to leave my keys here. Sam will need them.” He continued, setting them on the mantlepiece in front of Bucky’s flag.

Maggie opened her mouth to respond when the front door opened, and Sam called, “Hey Steve, the transport’s here.”

“Be right there,” He called back, before leveling his gaze again on her.

“Be safe.” Maggie rushed, going up on her toes to embrace him. “ _Please?_ ”

“Of course,” Steve replied, returning the embrace. “Be good.”

“I’ll do my best.” She said, stepping back.

“Thank you, Maggie. For everything.” Steve said, and without another word, he walked past her and down the hall to the front door.

Maggie turned and followed after. Standing in the doorway as they loaded up into the sleek black suburban. “We’ll be back in a bit,” Sam called before closing his door, and then there was nothing else as the vehicle pulled down the driveway and out of view.

_Steve doesn’t plan on coming back._

No. That couldn’t be it. That was her brain overthinking things. Maggie brushed away the horrible thought as soon as it entered her brain.

She was exhausted. Everyone had been through a whole ordeal over the last week and a half, and she was imagining the worst. After all, she’d had to say goodbye to Steve and Natasha before, and Natasha hadn’t made it back. It was only logical that her brain was assuming the same thing about Steve. How difficult or dangerous would putting everything back in place be?

Maggie hadn’t been privy to those conversations. She’d been busy running around keeping the farm going while half the universe tried to figure out _what the fuck._ She was lucky she even knew what Steve, Sam, and Bucky were up to today. But certainly, Sam would’ve said something or even Bucky would’ve said something to her if there was a risk that Steve would _die_ while trying to return the stones. Even _Steve_ had admitted last time that the mission to get the stones to bring everyone back was damn near a suicide mission (and in the end, it had been for Natasha). Surely, Steve would’ve said something more _straight forward_ if he knew there was high risk.

Once again, her brain jumped back to that moment she’d walked in on Steve and Bucky talking. Did Bucky know something? Was that what he’d been about to tell her before Bill had interrupted them?

_Fuck._

Maggie turned and walked back into the house, taking care not to lock it behind her for Sam, Steve, and Bucky when they got back and went to the kitchen.

There was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for her, with a quick sticky note that read, ‘Not campfire, but it’ll do in a pinch, J.B.B.’

Maggie smiled, feeling herself tear up as she poured a cup and inhaled the rising steam a moment before taking a sip.

It wasn’t campfire coffee, but it did take her back to the plains of Wakanda and their morning routine: the sounds of the plains and the jungle playing around them, sitting out under the open sky, and just _existing._

She’d missed that in the past five years. The just existing part. She hadn’t just _existed_ in a while. No, since she’d come back, she’d had to _lead._ Maybe it was just in her nature, she couldn’t just sit back, or sit by, and instead bent the world, or at least her corner of the world, around herself to arrange and make sense of it all. It had kept her busy, and it had undoubtedly helped keep her sane as she’d worked through losing some of the most important people in her life while also trying to help rebuild the world after a universe-wide catastrophe had struck.

Yet, now that Bucky was back, she was reminded of that slice of the quiet life that they’d had together in Wakanda. She was reminded of that loss and was now grappling with the fact that just because James Barnes was living, breathing, and walking around on the earth again, it didn’t mean that they would get go back to that quiet life in the Wakandan countryside again. They weren’t going to get that back.

But they’d known that. They’d always known once he went back out into the world, they were never going to get their perfect moment back. Perhaps it was just that Maggie had hoped they might get to at least have a minute, or more, for closure, for reflection, for affirmation of what that moment had meant to them, and what it might mean for the future.

_You’ll get that when they get back later._

She’d sent four of them out to battle before, and only two had come back. Now they were down to just the three of them.

Maggie shook her head, trying to ignore the screaming in her brain, insisting that something was wrong, tugging at the scarf around her neck.

She paused. It was the brown and blue scarf, the special one, the one she only used for days where she’d need the extra bit of strength. She hadn’t even realized she’d put it on.

Before she could interrogate what her brain knew that she didn’t, her phone buzzed, and she looked to see a reminder text from Suzanne about a vet appointment at 8:00 am. Then another text appeared from Diego informing her that he needed some practicum hours and so he was going to come and patch a section of the barn roof that he’d found needed to be worked on.

So life went on, and Maggie did her best to put her worries, fears, suspicions, and doubts to the back of her mind and focus on what she needed to take care of for the day.

Whatever Steve planned to do, it was out of her hands now.

Her appointment with Suzanne about one of her sick cows came and went with minimal fuss, and Diego arrived to start work ripping off a section of “rotting” shingles so that he could repair the roof for classwork, and Maggie busied herself first with chores around the farm, before cleaning up the house, doing multiple loads of laundry and dishes, before around noon she started thinking about lunch.

_Shouldn’t they be back by now?_

Maggie tried her damndest not to think about it, but the intrusive through popping back into her brain. _What if something went wrong? Wouldn’t Sam or Bucky or SOMEONE have notified me by now if that was the case?_

Well, it was the U.S. government, she was a civilian, and they were on official Avengers/S.H.I.E.L.D. business. Maggie highly doubted she would be told if anything happened and instead found it more likely that she would be brought in for questioning in the instance that something had gone wrong.

Opening the fridge, Maggie frowned as she surveyed the mountain of leftovers currently sitting inside. None of it was particularly appealing at present, so instead, Maggie selected a package of country-style pork ribs, chicken stock, a couple of fresh ears of corn, and canned green chili from the fridge. Pulling half a dozen golden russet potatoes from under the sink, she started work on green chili stew. It was a simple recipe, but it kept her hands busy, and her mind occupied, and her eyes away from the clock as the minutes continued to pass.

Maggie was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn’t hear the front door open, but she stopped at the tone in Sam’s voice as he said, “Mags?”

“Sammie?” She looked up and whirled around just in time to see him walk into the kitchen carrying a round leather case, which she couldn’t help, but notice was around the same size as Steve’s Shield. “Steve and Bucky?” Maggie asked when she didn’t hear any more footsteps.

“Bucky said he was going for a walk around the property.” Sam hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. “Steve decided to stay. He won’t be coming back.”

“What do you mean ‘decided to stay?’” She echoed.

“He made the jump to return the stones, and decided to take the long road back,” Sam said. “Said he thought he should try out some of the life Tony had been telling him to get.”

“As in?”

“He just spent the last eighty years in the past to get back to today,” Sam said.

It took everything in her power to keep Maggie’s jaw from unhinging itself and dropping to the floor. “So. As a civilian?”

“Yeah. He aged and everything.”

Maggie felt her gut clench. _Thank you for reminding me there’s more to me than being Captain America._ Had that been his way of telling her goodbye? Apparently. But as she stood there in total shock, the different pieces from the last few days started slowly clicking into place. Yet, even as she started to put the puzzle of what Steve Rogers was up to together, the whole picture still hadn’t come into focus. None of it made sense. “How far back?”

“1949.”

 _To Carter._ Maggie didn’t even have to confirm. She knew it was true. She knew he’d taken her failing memory and then death hard. that he hadn’t moved on, and now there was this. She had a thousand questions, but none of them quite so important as Sam, who was standing there still, watching her waiting for her reaction. What was he holding? The leather case. “Is that? Is that the—”

“He gave it to me,” Sam nodded.

“So, you’re…”

“Carrying on the mantle.” He finished for her, unable to make himself say ‘Captain America.’

“Did you know?” That was Maggie’s next question. Had Sam known what Steve’s plan was? Her mind could hardly wrap itself around what was being said, but it might make a little more sense if Sam had known if Steve had at least given him some forewarning about what getting ready to happen.

“No.” Sam shook his head. “When he showed back up…from the past…he gave me something of an explanation and the shield.”

 _What the fuck, Steve?!?! What the fucking fuck????!?!_ Maggie didn’t say it. Instead, she crossed the distance between them, pulling him into an embrace.

He let the leather case slip from his grasp and fall to the floor and returned the embrace, holding her tight. His shoulders didn’t shake, and his breath didn’t catch in his lungs, but she could feel there was tension there, pain and confusion, and just sheer bafflement coiled tightly in his chest as she held him.

“I don’t get it, Mags, why didn’t he just tell me?” He asked, his voice muffled in her scarf as he spoke.

“I don’t know, Sammie. I’m so sorry.” She answered, holding him that much tighter.

“I’m happy for him. I really am. I just…I mean I thought I was—we were—that we meant more than that.” Sam managed in faltering breaths.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m so, so sorry.” Maggie managed, unable to formulate anything more elaborate than that. What else was there to say? What else could she say? None of it made sense, and there was certainly no way to make it make sense. He’d just up and left without so much as a goodbye or explanation, and after everything he and Sam had shared, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

_What the fuck, Steve?_

“Tell me what you need, Sam.”

“I don’t know. I have to leave here soon to get my mom and sisters from the airport.” He shook his head, taking a step back. “My mom booked a hotel in the city, but Steve said he left the keys to his place for me with you.”

_‘I’m going to leave them here. Sam is going to need them.’_

_FUCK!_ Maggie wanted to shout and pull out her hair. She should’ve called him out, should’ve pushed, should’ve asked, should’ve made him tell her the truth. Maggie had known something was wrong, that something was up, but hadn’t asked.

_Because I thought we had time. I thought he was committed to coming back, now that nearly everyone we’d lost was back._

That didn’t matter. This was the reality and fucked as it was, Maggie knew they had no choice but to try and muddle their way through whatever it was they were dealing with. Unfortunately, they didn’t have time to unpack and address everything at the moment properly. This was triage. Maggie’s brain kicked into gear, running through what it was that Sam absolutely needed right now. “Keys are on the mantle,” Maggie said. “Before you leave, you should sit down, eat a bowl of stew, have a glass of water. Let’s talk some of this out.” She instructed firmly.

Sam nodded and wordlessly sunk into a chair at the kitchen table. Maggie went to the stew pot, which was now a good rolling boil, and lowered the temperature to a simmer, and ladled out a bowl. Grabbing a glass of water and utensils for him on her way back to the table, she set it out in front of him.

Maggie waited a moment until he took the first bite out of a chunk of potato and a sip of broth before continued over to the mantle where Steve had left the keys.

Snatching the keys from the top of the mantle, Maggie paused as she saw the corner of an envelope peeking out from behind Bucky’s flag. Shoving the keys in her back pocket, she removed the envelope from behind the flag frame and paused. Maggie _knew_ she’d left Steve’s farewell message from the jump, a week and a half ago behind the frame. It was where she’d left Natasha’s too until the memorial yesterday. But looking at the envelope she was holding in her hands, with its crisp, clean lines and fresh ink, Maggie _knew_ this wasn’t the same envelope. The previous one, the one Steve had given her in the machine shop, had been shoved and crumpled in his back pocket, the corners folded, a hard crease in the middle. This one looked pristine, her name written out in Steve’s steady even scrawl.

_That mother fuc-_

Maggie had two immediate impulses. The first was to rip it up and throw it in the garbage without reading it. The other was to open it and read it right then and there. Neither would be useful, productive, or appropriate given that Sam was sitting in the other room, trying to pull himself together enough to pick his mother and sisters up from the airport after being presumed dead for five years.

Taking a deep breath, she tucked the envelope back behind Bucky’s flag and returned to the kitchen where Sam was still eating the green chili stew.

“Here we are,” Maggie said with a sigh, removing the keys from her pocket and placing them on the table in front of him.

He was busy eating, his glass of water drained, but Maggie could tell that he was also deep in thought. Maggie paused before going to the fridge to retrieve the pitcher of water and returned to refill his glass.

Sitting down, Maggie watched in silence as he finished another glass of water, which she promptly refilled, before polishing off the bowl of stew.

Wordlessly, he pushed the empty bowl away from him and took a long drink from the glass before he looked up to meet her gaze. “You think you know a guy.” He shook his head, blinking hard as he looked away. “He didn’t even say goodbye.” Sam inhaled a shaking breath, his gaze down, his fingers tracing the wood grain on the table. “I’m sure he had his reasons, and I’m glad he got a chance at the slow life, but _fuck,_ it feels like a punch in the gut.”

Maggie nodded.

“I’m glad he got to grow old. We all know the alternatives with Stark, and Nat, and Riley.” He sighed, “I guess…I just…I guess I wish he’d wanted us along for that journey is all.”

“I wish I knew what to say, Sam. But you have every right to feel hurt by this. He was your friend and your partner, and I can’t imagine how upset you feel.”

“I feel like I should’ve known something was weird. I walked into the living room last night, and the vibe between Steve and Bucky was just weird.” He shook his head. “And then just before he made the jump, Bucky said something about missing him, about taking all the stupid with him. I dunno. I thought it might be some kind of inside joke.”

That’s what she was afraid of, that Bucky had known but hadn’t told them anything. Yet, while she wanted to be angry at Bucky too, she couldn’t help but wonder, if Bucky had known, why hadn’t he gone with Steve? After all, they were both from the 1940s? Why wouldn’t Bucky want to go back and see Becca, and get to live out his life with Steve in his own time?

At any rate, it didn’t matter. She’d get those answers eventually once she sent Sam on his way to pick up his mom and sisters. Right now, she needed to take care of Sam. “So is he alive? I mean. I assume if he gave you…gave you that.” Maggie motioned to the leather shield case, which Sam had placed on the chair to his left. “I take it he didn’t just vanish after your conversation.”

“No. He did say that I probably wouldn’t see him again. It was cryptic.” Sam rubbed at his face, trying to hide the tears welling in his eyes. “This is all so…so…weird. Like I know that he’s not dead, but he’s also not _alive_ either if you get what I mean.”

Maggie nodded, “I do. You know I do, Sam.”

Sam paused, giving her comment some consideration, “With your granddad. With me, after Riley. With Nat and Steve, when they wouldn’t come with you to the ranch, wouldn’t heal, wouldn’t grieve.” He said slowly.

“I can’t say it’s exactly the same. I won’t make that comparison, but I do think I understand at least somewhat.”

He nodded again. “I just don’t get it.” Sam lowered his head.

“Maybe…” Maggie faltered, uncertain if her commentary would be welcome.

“Well, go on, Mags. I know when you have a canned speech up your sleeve.” He chuckled under his breath, his head still down. “and personally, I’d love to hear it.”

She cracked a small smile. “I do _not_ actually have a canned speech for this particular scenario. Not in a million years would I want to have to give this speech again.” Maggie paused. “We may not ever get an answer. Or even if we do get an answer, we may never understand why Steve chose to do what he did. But In the end, none of it matters. We don’t have to understand. We don’t have to like or accept or think that what he did was right. Because, ultimately, I think if we’re ever going to make peace with this, we’re going to have to understand and accept that Steve’s decision to leave wasn’t about us, it was about him.”

It wasn’t very good, or concise, or well said, but she knew what she was trying to say, and Maggie could only hope that he understood too. After a moment, Sam took a couple, very long, very slow deep breaths before he looked back up at her. “That was pretty good for not being canned, Ramirez. Did they teach you that in therapist school?”

Maggie rolled her eyes, sticking out her tongue. “Thanks for that, Sammie.”

“No. Thank you, Mags.” Sam answered, reaching his hands across the table, she placed them in his. “You’ve been a rock over the last week, and I know that hasn’t been easy, and won’t be easy going forward.” He paused. “But it means the world to me, right now, while I’m trying to get my feet under me.”

Maggie nodded firmly. “Of course. Always.” She smiled, standing and leaning over the table, she kissed his forehead.

He let go of her hands when she sat back down as both their gazes drifted to the case sitting beside him. “What are you going to do?” Maggie asked.

“What I can, I guess, to continue his work, to _be_ Captain America.”

“Is that what you want?” Maggie asked as gently as she could manage.

Sam shook his head, “I don’t know if I want it, but I want to _deserve_ it. I want to be worthy of it, of him, and everything he stands—stood for,” He said haltingly, his eyes focused on pouring another glass of water.

“I can’t think of anyone _more_ worthy, Samuel Thomas Wilson,” She said.

“Using the full name, huh?” He cracked a small smile, shaking his head, returning the pitcher to the table. Sam paused, glancing up at her, “You really mean that.”

“You act, surprised?” Maggie returned the smile.

“I dunno. Considering how you reacted…when…you know…” Sam trailed off.

“Joining the Avengers?” Maggie supplied.

“Yeah.”

Maggie could feel the weight in his voice as he said it, and her stomach twinged, knowing that she’d put some of that worry in his mind. How she’d reacted then—it hadn’t been her best hour. God. That felt so long ago. It _was_ a long time ago, in a different world, before half the population had gone poof, before she’d gone back to therapy, back when she’d been so desperate to find Bucky so that she could go home she’d been willing to put herself and her mental health in harm's way.

So much had changed. _She_ had changed. Maggie paused, frowning as she tried to find her way through what she was feeling and furthermore what she wanted to say.

She was pissed. She was angry. She was upset. She was confused. She was hurting. But she knew that those feelings were directed at Steve, at his apparent inability to talk about what was going on, about his sudden disappearance, and about the fact that he hadn’t said goodbye. But Steve handing over the Shield to Sam? That felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like, _of course,_ Steve would hand the mantle off to Sam. Who better to fill the massive shoes of Captain America than a man who embodied everything that America was, or better yet, everything that America could be.

Yes, it also meant that her time with him would be shorter than she wanted, and yes, that he’d be back in danger far more frequently than she would like. But that was who Sam was. Rushing into the line of fire to help others. Who would she be to ask him to do something that defied his nature?

“I’ll always be scared for you.” Maggie began slowly. “I’ll always hate having to watch you leave and charge back into the fight, Sam. Because, yeah, I’d like some of my friends and lovers to live to ripe old age and die in their beds. I also know that part of the reason we get along so well is that it’s in our nature to want to help people, and if you think this is the best way for you to do that, then I’m happy for you.”

“You think I can do it?”

“Beyond a doubt,” She paused, a wide grin spreading over her face, “Cap.”

“Now you’re just being a smart ass,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“I am not!” Maggie had to do everything in her power not to laugh, “I swear.”

“Uh, Huh,” Sam said skeptically.

“Or are you going to combine them? Captain Falcon? The Falcon Captain?” Now she was being a smart ass, but she couldn’t bear any of the alternatives that were bubbling just below the surface, ready to burst.

“I’m keeping the wings. Regardless.”

“I think that’ll be good. For personal continuity. Though I can hardly wait to see what your new garish red white and blue number is going to look like to keep you ‘visually cohesive.’”

“I’ll be sure to run the designs by you first. How does that sound?”

“Sounds excellent.” Maggie grinned.

Pausing, Sam looked down at the time and sighed. “I gotta go. I need to get down to JFK to pick up ma’ and the girls.” He looked up at her, “You’re welcome to come with if you’d like?”

“I have too many things to take care of here.” She paused.

“And Barnes,” Sam added, knowingly.

“Yeah. And Barnes.” Maggie nodded.

“Thank you, Mags. For everything.”

“Always, Sammie.”

“I’m going to go lock the shield up in the bedroom you have set aside for me. Not sure who would want to steal it, but just in case.”

“I’ll make sure to lock up after you, just in case too.” Maggie agreed as they rose, and for a minute, they were swept up in the general task of getting ready to head out the door.

Maggie walked him to the door, but before he could start to the black suburban he’d arrived in, she pulled him into another embrace. “It’s going to be okay, Sam.” She murmured as she held him. “It just may not feel like it right now.”

“I know it’s going to be okay when I’ve got a friend like you in the world,” He answered, kissing the top of her head.

“Be safe.” She said as they stepped apart.

“I’ll text you when I make it to JFK and then to the hotel.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” She gave him another quick hug before letting him climb into the vehicle, and she stood in the doorway as she watched him drive away.

As he disappeared from view, Maggie could feel icy anger start to creep over her, consuming her. Turning, she walked back into the house, locking the door behind her, and went back to the kitchen where she found Diego sitting at the table, eating a bowl of stew. “Oh, hey.” She managed, her anger momentarily put on the back burner as she sat down across from him. “You all done.”

“I am.” He answered. “I have to head out soon. But thought you should know, he’s in stall nine.”

“Huh?” Maggie had to do a double-take, trying to grasp the meaning of Diego’s words.

“Barnes. He’s holed up in stall nine.” He paused, looking up at her. “You okay?”

“In a word, not really.”

Diego surveyed her a moment, before glancing back down into the bowl. “You need me to stay?”

“I know for a fact you have class this evening and more than enough to deal with to keep on top of work. I’m a grown woman. I can handle myself.”

He nodded, “True. Still doesn’t mean you don’t _need_ people. Everyone needs someone.”

“Since when did you get all wise? I don’t remember the smart ass who was about to flunk trig being this wise.” Maggie chuckled.

“Iuhno.” He shrugged before finishing off the broth with two massive gulps. “We’re around if you need us,” Diego said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he rose and put his dishes in the dishwasher.

“I know,” Maggie replied. “And I appreciate it, kid. I _really_ do. But I think I need a minute or two to get my feet under me, and I’m afraid it’s something I gotta do on my own.”

“Well, call me if you need back up, class is going to be boring tonight.”

“Ahhh. I see the ulterior motive here.” She smiled, watching as he moved around the kitchen, picking up his things.

“See you later, mom. Love you.” Diego reached around and pecked her on the cheek.

“Love you too, get to class safe. Let me know when you make it.”

“10-4.” He mock saluted before walking out the back door.

Maggie shook her head, listening a moment until she was sure he’d gone. Then slowly, her gaze narrowed on the mantle, and she rose and crossed the room in what felt like a fog.

Opening the envelope with shaking hands, she removed a single sheet of paper and sat down on the couch to read.

‘Dear Maggie,

I know this isn’t going to be an easy letter to read, and I understand if you don’t, in the end, read what I have to say. It would be arrogant for me not to acknowledge that I have probably forfeited any and all right to your good opinion when I decided to leave without saying goodbye. But I thought you should know that you were right. You were right about me. I don’t know when to stop. I couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t put the shield down, and maybe it was because I didn’t know who I might find behind the shield or under the cowl. Maybe it was because I always knew the world would need a Captain America. But there is more to me than just being Captain America. Thank you for reminding me of that, for continuously and loudly reminding me of that when I think it might have been easier to forget that part of myself.

Thank you for your kindness and generosity, for your persistence, and for the love and care you’ve shown me over the last five years. It was honestly more than I deserved, especially given how much your life was turned upside down on account of Bucky and me.

Thank you for the love you’ve given Bucky, and for the peace you helped him find in Wakanda. It meant a lot to me just after we lost him five years ago that he wasn’t alone in Wakanda, and it gives me peace of mind knowing that he won’t be alone in the 21st century with you and Sam.

I know you and Sam may never forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye, but you’ll have to trust that I did it because I didn’t want to hurt you both, should the worst have happened.

Sam will make an exceptional Captain America, but I rest assured knowing that you’ll have no problem reminding him of the same thing you always reminded me. Then again, I hope that he’ll be better as Captain American and as a man than I ever could’ve hoped to be.

I will never forget you, Magdalene Ramirez. Thank you for all that you’ve given me, Bucky, Natasha, and the world, and I am glad that in the end, you were able to find your way back home, just as I hope to be able to do the same.

Your friend,

Steve’

Maggie starred at the letter a moment, flipping it over front and back, searching for the rest of it, but there was nothing. That was everything Steve had wanted to say to her before disappearing into utter nothing.

“Steve. What the FUCK?” Maggie said. “Steve. WHAT THE FUCK!?” She shouted, full chest, her voice so loud that it rattled the pots and pans in the kitchen.

Her voice died away after it reverberated around the house, and for a moment, Maggie’s chest just heaved, her heart racing, her pulse pounding wildly in her ears.

 _We might have been able to work through this if you’d just talked to us about what was going on!_ Maggie wanted to scream and shout and pound her fists. But scream at whom? He was gone. He’d made his choice, and there was nothing any of them could do to change it.

So Maggie sat there, so unspeakably angry that she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even cry. She was exhausted. She’d been exhausted for the last week and a half, perhaps longer than that, longer than she could remember and fathom. And she’d already cried her tears for Steve Rogers, she’d cried them often over the past five years, and now she was done. There were no more tears for him. There would be no more occasion to cry for him or weep for him. Yet, still, her heart felt like it was breaking, just like it had that night a week and a half ago when Steve and Nat had told her their plan.

Maggie had known that she was never going to get them back, and how unfortunate that she’d been right.

She retrieved her cellphone phone and started scrolling through the messages. She couldn’t call Dani and talk with her about this. Couldn’t call Becky, who was backed up for months. Then Maggie paused at the group chat she’d shared with Steve and Natasha over the past five years, and she was overcome for a minute by the urge to send a text.

No one would answer; of course, there was no one left to answer.

Closing her phone and chucking it to the opposite side of the couch, Maggie sighed, rubbing her face and trying to find her center, trying to find peace, trying to figure out what came next. And as it had so many time before, Bucky’s voice came to her, _Whatever happens next, you’re going to be okay._

And she knew that, but what about Sam? What about Bucky? She didn’t know, and at the moment, she didn’t have the energy to find out. She just needed a minute, needed half a moment to get her feet under her, find her balance, find her center, and then everything might be okay, then she might be able to make everything okay, or as close to it as possible.

-

Bucky had slipped away after they’d arrived back at the house. He needed time to clear his head, and he wanted to give Sam and Mags time to talk after the events of the morning.

So, Bucky had walked around the property, hoping that somehow he might be able to think through the thousands of thoughts bombarding him, twisting tight knots in his chest that would not ease no matter how much he walked or how deeply he breathed. And after a fair bit, he found himself in the barn, in stall nine, back where it had all began.

The stall was somehow bigger than he’d remembered. Then again, the world had felt like it was closing in around him back when he was here the first time. Perhaps now he felt that the world was too big, and he was too small and insignificant in it.

Sitting down on the bench that Mags had left inside for what felt this exact point and purpose, he leaned his head back against the stall wall and tipped his chin upward, his eyes wandering to the ceiling and the roof that had once been in desperate need of patching. How different the circumstances were now, compared to what they had been almost ten years before.

Last time he’d been in this stall, he’d been angry, scared, confused, alone, on the run, with no idea who he was. The only thing propelling him forward was the desire to stay alive and stay out of Hydra’s clutches.

Well—perhaps things weren’t quite so different. The context was different. For one thing, he knew who James Barnes had been. He also knew the full measure of what he’d done as the Winter Soldier. And for two years in Wakanda, he’d been given a glimpse of what could be, might be, before he’d been called to the fight and then unceremoniously wiped from existence for five years.

Now he was back, and he still felt angry, scared, confused, and alone, wanting nothing more than to run, knowing that it might be easier than facing everything that had happened in the five years he’d been absent or even in the week and a half he’d been back.

Steve was gone, or well, the Steve _he’d_ known was gone. But it seemed that he’d found his peace, taking the long road of history, getting the home and family he always wanted.

Bucky was happy for him, he really was. He couldn’t fault Steve for wanting peace. That was something that he intimately understood. But he would still miss him, grieve for him, wonder what could have been if Steve had decided to stay, or what _might_ have been if Bucky had decided to go.

He wasn’t convinced that he would’ve found peace the same way that Steve had in the past. It had come down to choice and change, and working to undo everything the Winter Soldier had done. The choice to be a good person, and the chance to make good out of a lifetime of bloodshed. That was all he’d wanted since he’d fled from Hydra. So Bucky had let Steve go back alone so that he could have the opportunity to choose when, and where, and how he found his peace. Only now that he had that choice, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do next.

 _Help Sam become Captain America._ Of course, that was the most obvious choice, the most important task he could apply himself to at the moment. How the fuck was Sam handling any of this? Steve hadn’t told Sam his plan and had barely given him any explanation when he’d handed off the shield. Bucky knew that _he’d_ have a billion questions, but the fact that Sam and Steve had been partners, for Steve to leave without explanation or warning, never mind while also trying to recover from being gone five years. Bucky knew that Sam would need help. Or perhaps it was that Bucky felt that he owed it to Sam to help him figure out this Captain America thing. Sam had given up so much for Bucky prior to the blip and been there for Bucky over the past few days. The very least he could do was help him with the _mess_ that Steve had left behind.

And it was a mess. The world was a mess. Almost 4 billion people showing back up out of nowhere was a mess. Three avengers “dead” or “MIA” and at least two more out of commission, the world was going to need Captain America, and Sam was going to need help figuring out what the hell all that meant on a practical level. Sam would be a good Cap’, that Bucky had no doubt, he just shouldn’t have to figure it out on his own.

Yet, there was another path that Bucky knew he could follow, another choice he could make. Who said he had to go back out there and keep fighting? Who said that he couldn’t stay here with Mags and try to find his peace here?

Bucky shook his head.

 _No,_ she didn’t deserve that intrusion, that complication, that hazard in her life. He’d been gone five years, and in that time, she’d rebuilt a place that he’d had an inadvertent hand at destroying the first time around. He wouldn’t bring that kind of chaos or danger back into her life. Besides, she’d built something truly magnificent here and had filled her life with joy, and happiness, and beauty. She had a wonderful partner, loving kids, friends, a social network, and a whole host of responsibility that kept her busy. Where the hell could he fit in all of that? Did he have a place in there? Could he envision a place for himself in all of that? Was there a place with her for him anymore?

Bucky knew there was only one way to find out. He’d have to talk to her. Over the past week, that had been the only thing he’d wanted was a chance to talk to her, but now? After what Steve had done? After what he’d kept from her? He wasn’t sure if she’d even want to speak to him again. She’d never liked secrets, and Bucky had a hunch that this secret was enough to incur wrath, and as someone who’d known in advance and was now the only one left to admit to that fact, he wasn’t sure how that conversation would go.

He would tell her. After everything he’d put her through, everything that Steve had put her through, he owed her that much at the very least. He owed her an explanation and an apology. He just wasn’t sure he was up for it at the moment. Not when his skull felt like it was going to rip in half with all of the thought racing through it. Not with all the possibilities, all the choices, all of the what-ifs in the present situation.

He really did wish they could go back to Wakanda, back to that morning when she’d been so beautiful, laying there in the morning sun. Back to when things had been simple, when they’d canceled their evening social activities to have a night in, to themselves. Back to calling in sick to work so they could spend the day in bed together.

It had been a simple, beautiful, and perfect.

Well, no. That wasn’t true. They’d struggled, and they’d had to work through some difficult and horrible shit, and they’d had to grapple with the impermanence of their situation. But it was something that they’d done _together_. Over the past five years, Mags hadn’t had him to help her figure out what life after Wakanda meant, and Bucky wasn’t sure he _deserved_ Mags’s help figuring out what life after five years of being gone meant. He wasn’t sure he could ask that of her, now, after all this time.

Bucky paused, listening to the sounds of Diego up on the roof, working on a section that needed repair, and the soothing rhythmic sound of hammer and nail on wood. The sound of creation rather than destruction, and from the sounds of it, Diego had a firm grasp on what he was doing. All of Mags’s kids seemed to have a firm grasp on who they were and where they were going. 

Mags’s kids. That had taken a minute for Bucky to get used to, but in the last week and a half watching them interact with each other, it seemed to Bucky the most logical step for her to take. Giving kids who didn’t have a place to call home a home, giving them a family.

He was happy for her, proud of her, glad that she’d been able to move on and grieve, and heal, and grow in a way that Steve and Natasha hadn’t. It was just, he didn’t know what role there was left for him to play in her life, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to let her go yet.

Bucky sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to ease the pounding in his skull, and the pressure mounting behind his eyes.

He was exhausted. He was tired. So much had happened, and he just wanted a break, a pause, a respite, and he’d thought maybe he’d get that, but Steve had left such a mess, he wasn’t sure he was going to get a break. He wasn’t sure he _deserved_ a break.

Bucky knew he should go up to the house and ask if he could talk with her. Maybe they would sit on the couch, and she would wrap the blanket around them, and he could just hold her. Or perhaps, she would hold him, and they could talk, for hours, like they’d been able to back in Wakanda when it had just been them, the outside world just a vague, albeit menacing, passing thought. It was a silly, stupid daydream, one he knew that was divorced from reality. They’d had more than their fair share of troubles, but all of that seemed so small, and distant, and tiny compared to what they—he was up against now. But he would allow himself to savor at least a minute or two more of the daydream as he gathered his strength to face her.

Closing his eyes, he sighed, “Of all the barns, in all the towns, in all the world, and I walked into hers.” Who would’ve guessed that one simple miscalculation would have created all of this? What might have happened had he gone one more farm over, or not stopped at all? What would’ve changed had he decided to turn himself over to Steve and the Avenger or stop to see Becca? How much would be different if he and Mags had never met, never lost, and never loved as they had? And what were the odds that that one choice would lead him right back here, right back to her, to the place where it all began? He didn’t know. It was too big, too massive, and too painful to fathom yet.

Perhaps one day, he might be able to calculate those odds or see the long road that had lead both of them to this point. For now, he would just close his eyes and gather his strength. Then he’d go up to the house to look for her, before she came down looking for him.

-

Maggie sat perfectly still on the couch, legs crossed, the letter from Steve on the coffee table in front of her. The righteous, blinding fury had passed, and a strange sort of stillness had come over her. It wasn’t numbness, necessarily, just a current lack of physical, emotional, or intellectual momentum.

She couldn’t understand what had happened, what had possessed Steve to leave without saying what he was doing or where he was going or why, but Maggie knew that she had to let him go, just as Dani had said that she should the night before he and Natasha and the others had made the jump the first time.

Sometimes you had to grieve for people before they died. Sometimes it was the only way to deal with them still being alive, but not being…them.

So. She was trying to let him go, trying to grieve, and mourn the lost chances, possibilities, and time that they might have shared together, now that Bucky and Sam, and half the world was back, a thing that he and Nat had fought so hard for, a thing, that Natasha had died for.

She just _couldn’t_ wrap her head around it. Of course, it was something that she could imagine Steve might do, if not by virtue of having just done it, but by his own inability to cope, grieve, and move on from the world and life he might have had. She just couldn’t believe that he’d go without saying goodbye, to her or Sam or so far as she knew anyone else.

_Other than Bucky._

That’s what she’d walked in on. She had no doubt of that now. But it _stung._ It hurt. It felt _wrong_ that he would do something like that to them. Hadn’t any of them meant anything to him? What if something had gone wrong, and Steve hadn’t made it to the rendezvous point on the other side, via the long road, and had never been able to give Sam his explanation, and the shield?

Sure, Steve had left the letter for her. That felt more like a slap in the face than any sort of _real_ closure or explanation or apology. In some part, Maggie was glad that Steve, or the old man claiming to be Steve Rogers, hadn’t come around. She wasn’t afraid to punch an old man, and he’d deserve it.

Yet, for all of her anger, all of her frustration, all of her hurt, she knew it was only fractional to what Sam and Bucky were feeling.

She wished Sam could’ve stayed so they could talk through some of this, but she was glad he was going to get to see his mother and sisters, and they’d be able to talk, and grieve, and parse things though together. Besides, there would be time later, in the dark hours of the night, at some date in the future where she and Sam would get to talk this through. Healing, after all, wasn’t a one-off. This would take time, and Sam would have to work it out, but Maggie was confident he knew that he wasn’t alone.

Bucky, on the other hand, was a different story. He hadn’t come inside yet. Maggie’d been almost sure he would after both Sam and Diego left, now that she was alone for the rest of the day, she was sure he’d come inside, and they’d be able to talk, eat, cry, grieve, and figure this out, as a team.

Did he know that he wasn’t alone? Did he know that there was still an us, a them, a we? He couldn’t know. After all, they hadn’t had three goddamn minutes strung together the entire time he’d been back.

_Maybe he wants to be left alone? Maybe he needs his space?_

Maggie shook her head, rubbing her face. _No. If he wanted his space, he needs to enunciate that to me. I’m not going to just let him rot out there because I’m too much of a coward to go after him._

So rising, she collected the letter and, slipping it back in its envelope, stowed it back behind Bucky’s flag. Then she turned to the kitchen. Removing a large green metal thermos and a reusable water bottle from the upper cabinets, she rinsed them out before filling the thermos with stew and the water bottle to the brim with cold water. Grabbing a cloth napkin and metal spoon, she gathered all the items in a reusable canvas bag

He hadn’t eaten or drank anything all day. The least she could do was give him something to eat after a long trying day, and make sure that he was _physically_ okay. Then, if after all that he didn’t want her company, she would leave him alone. Put the ball in his court, and see what he wanted from her.

Adjusting the canvas bag over her shoulder, Maggie walked from the back door. She stopped, taking a deep breath letting the spring breeze wash the smell of grass and flowers over her.

It was April. She’d forgotten that somehow in all of the excitement, but the realization washed over her. April was when it had all started when she had found that man, half-starved, delirious, and dangerous in her barn, and when her life had changed forever. When she’d been looking for him, she’d done her best not to think about April and what it meant. While she was in Wakanda time, never mind April specifically, hadn’t really mattered. Of course, that had changed when Bucky and half the universe’s population had disappeared, and over the last five years, April had given her pause and made her think about what had started in that barn. Death and rebirth, ends, and beginnings.

Spring was a time of new life, rebirth, new beginnings. At the time, that had felt like the end with the impending foreclosure, the rotting barn roof, the death of Tim, and her inability to hold it all together while the world felt like it was crumbling around her. Then Hydra had burned her house to the ground and sent her on a four-year journey that had ultimately led her back here.

Everything had changed because of Bucky, and for everything she’d gone through in the years since that horrible night, Maggie knew that she wouldn’t be here if not for him. So, it only seemed fitting, in the strange way that the cosmos worked, that it was April again, and now almost nine years ago to the day, Bucky was back, and she was bringing him food and water, unsure of what she was going to find when she went into the barn.

No. She would find a man she loved in there, one who needed her, even if the future was uncertain, she knew that for sure.

A smile passed over her expression, as a thought crossed her mind, “Of all the barns in all the towns, in all the world and he walked into mine.” Maggie chuckled, shaking her head, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders and jaw, and settle the anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

At the going rate, Rick and Ilsa had nothing on her and Bucky so far as drama and trauma, but there were worse things. “Well, hopefully, there won’t be any Nazis this time.” She sighed.

Then without another word, she continued down the hill and to the man waiting for her in stall nine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Okay. I know. That was a bit mean to cut off there, but I figured you all deserved a rest after the emotional roller coaster of the rest of the chapter. This chapter, and this whole section in fact was difficult for the main reason that I REALLY didn’t want to send Steve to the past A-La-Endgame. There were several times that I grumbled to my wonderful Beta’s that I was writing Steve out of character, or that I hated this version of Steve. Yet, for my all my grumbling I knew for the rest of the fic to work, the way that I hope it will work, Steve had to leave, and Bucky and Mags are going to have to figure things out for the future. 
> 
> I hope that you like/appreciate/enjoyed how I handled the most DIFFICULT of hurtles that Endgame left for me, and I pray that you’ll forgive me for not breaking my canon compliance. I think that it pays off, and I hope you stick around to find out! 
> 
> ALSO! No. Your eyes do not deceive you, I did indeed add another chapter to the fic, so we have a little bit longer with these jerks! I hope you enjoy and I hope that everything wraps up nicely! 
> 
> Until next time, happy reading!


	9. Back At the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So, if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> CW: light sensuality, mentions of self-harm
> 
> Recommended Listening: Can I Sleep in Your Arms by Willie Nelson; Faithfully by Journey; Angel by Sarah McLachlan; Unchained Melody by Willie Nelson  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=vAV-kIHEQ7-ovmtM6cFQXA

Bucky was still sitting in the barn, and it was for the sole reason that he was fighting with himself. What was worse was he was losing. He knew that he should get up, go inside, and try and talk things through with Mags. Logically, Bucky _knew_ that was the right thing to do. That it was the _only_ thing he could do. Steve was gone. Sam was Cap.’ Bucky owed Mags an explanation and apology at the very least for being unable to prevent the former from disappearing without a trace, leaving one of the most dangerous jobs in the world to a man who was frankly too good to be dealing with cleaning up the mess Steve had left in his wake.

How had she taken the news? What had Wilson—Sam said? Was she angry at Steve? Angry at him? Would she even want to speak with him now that he’d played a role in keeping Steve’s secret until it was too late to do anything about it? In the grand scheme of things, did any of that really matter?

No. It didn’t.

Mags deserved her anger, hurt feelings, frustration, and all of those things he knew she must be feeling. But she also deserved to know why he’d done it, and why in the end, he’d decided to stay.

Part of him, a bigger part of him than he was willing to admit presently, wanted to run, wanted to hide, wanted to push her away while he figured out what to do next. He didn’t want to make her life any more complicated than it already was. He owed it to her to at least have _some_ of his shit together before he went to talk to her. Yet, even Bucky knew that whatever he decided to do next would have a profound impact on her life, for better or for worse, and that if anyone deserved control and choice over their situation, it was her.

After all that had happened to her because of him, it was the very least he could do.

So, he’d waited. He’d waited for Sam to leave, knowing that he and Mags probably had a lot to talk about in the circumstances. Then, once Sam had left, he’d waited for Diego to pack up and leave. And now, he was trying to convince himself that telling the woman he loved that he loved her was a good idea.

_She’s moved on. She’s healed. Leave her be._

That was his first instinct. Right. That. Leaving her alone, let her make the first move. Because that had worked out so well last time in Wakanda when it had taken a rainy hillside and a twisted ankle to get them to talk to one another like honest, regular, human people.

_This isn’t the same situation at all. It’s been five years for her. You have no idea what she’s been through._

Yet, Bucky also knew that the only way he would find out was if he asked was if he engaged in honest, open communication.

_Relationships are a moment by moment exercise in consent._

That’s what she’d said that day, on one of his many, many bad days that first year they’d been in Wakanda when he’d cut open his thumb. 

Would she walk away? Knowing that all he could bring her was more pain and heartbreak? No. The important question was, could _he_ walk away? 

For her, he would do it. In a heartbeat. If she told him that she didn’t think it was a good idea for him to be around or that they shouldn’t see one another again, he would honor her decision. He would do that for her because that’s how much he loved her. No matter how much it might hurt, Bucky just wanted to do right by her, after she’d given him and Steve and Natasha and the world so much.

Bucky paused momentarily in his musings and rose at the sound of approaching footsteps, their familiar stride echoing on the wooden floorboards. He turned to the open doorway of the stall, his mind racing.

Should he hide? Should he run? They didn’t need to have this conversation now, in this place, like this. Yet the impulse was only momentary and quickly nipped in the bud as Mags appeared in the open doorway of the stall, a canvas bag over her shoulder. “Hey,” She said softly, the slightest hoarseness to her voice.

Bucky stood, hands clenched, as he surveyed her. Her eyes weren’t ringed in red, and her cheeks weren’t pink. She hadn’t been crying. She stood firm, her feet firmly planted as if bracing for something. Her left hand was looped through the canvas bag on her shoulder. Her right hand tucked an errant strand of hair that had come loose from her bun behind her ear. She was wearing his scarf. 

Bucky stood there, waiting, uncertain what he should say, uncertain what it was that she wanted to hear, what she needed to hear. He felt like they were back at the beginning. Both beginnings. The one here, but also the one a thousand miles away, on the plains of Wakanda, neither of them knowing what to say, except that the weight of the situation might crush them both if they didn’t start speaking soon.

“I brought you some food and water. I figured you were probably pretty hungry since you hadn’t eaten since this morning.” She explained after a long pause. Then she removed the canvas bag from her shoulder and held it in both hands.

“Thank you.” He said, taking a step toward her. “Would you like to sit out here with me while I eat, or…” Bucky hesitated. _Am I just a stop in passing?_ He couldn’t quite find a way to say that without sounding bitter. But how else was he supposed to ask if she had more than a minute or thirty seconds to give him? Was it selfish of him to want a bit more time with her?

“I don’t have anything else for the day,” Mags answered, understanding his unasked question. “Wasn’t sure if you were up for company or not. All things considered.”

Bucky nodded, feeling slightly off balance by the whole situation. She didn’t look angry, she didn’t sound angry, but then again, what did he have to go by? What was his frame of reference? “I wouldn’t mind your company. I just wouldn’t want to keep you from anything.” He continued.

“Not at all.” She took a few steps into the stall, handing him the canvas bag, and then paused, “do you wanna sit on the bench or the floor? Eating might be a bit easier on the floor.”

“The floor is fine. The floor works for me.”

Mags nodded and moved into the stall's interior, repositioning the bench against the outward-facing wall, sat down against the divider, giving him plenty of space to her left, so that he could sit with her to his right.

 _Just like Wakanda._ Bucky couldn’t help but notice. All they were missing was the shade tree, and the Wakandan blanket spread out under them.

He could feel the tension in his shoulders and jaw ease slightly, and he sat down beside her before unpacking the bag: a thermos, water bottle, spoon, and napkin all tucked carefully inside.

Removing his gloves and shoving them into his jacket pocket, he unscrewed the cap of the thermos, followed by the interior lid, and stopped as the steam rose to greet him. 

_Green chili stew?_ But of course. It couldn’t have been anything but Green Chili Stew. It was the only thing she could make for him at a moment like this. And here they were, back at the beginning. Here he was sitting in the same place nine years later, eating the same meal, wondering the same questions.

And just like then, he felt as if he was spinning, his mind racing, his path unclear, his future uncertain. The world was too big. There were too many unknowns, too many possibilities, too much for him to think about, and too much work that needed to be done.

“Bucky?” He blinked as he realized tears were slipping down his cheeks. And he glanced over to find Mags watching him, her gaze, dark and warm, and bottomless watching him closely, her brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m fine. Everything’s okay.” He said, setting the thermos down in front him and wiping at his eyes. His hand was shaking. He felt that his whole body was shaking, and Bucky knew he wasn’t okay. It wasn’t fine. There wasn’t a single okay thing about the whole situation. But he wanted to be okay—more than anything, he wanted to be all right.

Well. There was something that he wanted more than to be all right. Bucky wanted to reach out and touch her. He wanted to hold her, wanted to be held by her, wanted to bury his nose in her hair, and breathe her in if just one more time, just so he could remember them and what it had been like to be with her. He wanted to bridge the breach between them caused by five years and more pain than he could possibly fathom at the moment. But where to begin?

“I think you have a right not to be okay right now, Bucky,” Mags said gently. Leaning over, she screwed the cap back on the thermos before placing it out of the way.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find the right words or any words for that matter. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” She continued. Her eyes were down now, her left-hand flat on the barn floor between them. “I can’t imagine how scary and confusing all of this must be. And I’m sorry that we haven’t had time—that _I_ haven’t had the time to be there for you as you’re trying to figure all of this stuff out—”

“You have your life, Mags,” Bucky interjected. “I’m happy for you. Proud of you.” He wasn’t lying. He was telling the truth. He _was_ proud of her. Yet, there was the aching in his chest with the knowledge that he hadn’t been there to see it happen, hadn’t been able to help her on her journey back home. He hadn’t been able to build a life, build a relationship, build a _home_ with her the way that the One More Chance Farm community, the way that Dani and Diego and Sara and Alecia and Bianca and Ava-Maria had over the last five years.

“That means a lot to hear you say that, Bucky,” She said, an audible lump in her throat. “But, none of this would’ve been possible without you, you know. I could have only done what I did; only do what I do now because of you.” Mags paused, glancing up and around at the barn around them. “I think that’s why I left this stall intact even when everything else was renovated. I wanted someplace to remind me where it all began, to have someplace to go to reflect on how we met, and how we loved, and how you saved me, and I hope in some small way that I helped save you too by keeping you in my mind and in my heart.”

“I _saved_ you?” 

“Mhhh, hmmm.” She nodded, still not meeting his gaze, her chin tilted up, blinking as tears started to pool. “Yours was the voice that kept telling me whatever happened next I was going to be okay, that I should keep going, the work I was doing was important.”

Bucky remembered that, or some of it, standing in the bustling hallways, she’d been on the edge of completely shutting down, and he’d held her and told her that she was going to be okay. She’d remembered that? That had been one of the things to keep her going? He was astounded, shocked even that something he said in a moment of pure panic and chaos had brought her peace over the last five years. That he had _saved_ her.

 _But it was my fault you were in that situation to begin with._ That wasn’t a fair thing to say, to either of them, and so he kept the thought to himself, but still. She said he’d _saved_ her and that because of him, she was able to do all of the good in the world she’d accomplished over the last five years. It was all too much to take in.

“And I know how much things have changed, how much I’ve changed. And I know that the world is different and that the circumstances are different than they were five years ago, and I know that we can’t pick up where we left off. But no matter what happens next, I want you to know that I love you, and there will always be a place here for you, with me, with us.” She paused. Then taking a shaking breath, she added. “Whatever happens next, we’re going to be okay.”

Bucky sat beside her, her words resounding in his brain and reverberating in his soul. Her voice faded into silence, but she continued looking forward, her eyes front, her jaw firm. She was bracing, waiting for whatever he was going to say next.

_Whatever happens next, we’re going to be okay._

We. There was a we. There was a them. There was the possibility for a them. After all this time, after everything she’d been through, she still loved him.

Bucky knew he was still as lost as he’d been before, but now he knew he wasn’t alone, there were billions of people trying to figure out some of the exact same things he was, and he had Mags. 

Whatever happened next, however the next conversation might go, however difficult it might be, they were going to work _something_ out. They were going to figure it out together.

Slowly, he reached out into the space between them, where she’d placed her left hand on the barn floor and put his right hand on top of hers, gently tapping the top of her hand with his pointer finger three times. _I love you._ He couldn’t make himself form the words, he couldn’t make himself say _anything_ at present, but Bucky knew Mags would understand.

She chuckled softly. Her voice was watery with tears that hadn’t fallen yet. “I’ve missed you, Bucky. I’ve missed you so much.” Mags turned her hand to grasp his and squeezed his hand three times.

He exhaled a long and shaking breath, tipping his head back toward the ceiling. “And I promised you an evening in.” He tried to make it funny, but it just hurt. He wanted it not to hurt, but he didn’t have the faintest clue as to where to start.

“So you did.” Mags agreed. Pulling her hand from under his, she rose on her knees, turning to face him. “But I think the first order of business is a hug, and then food, and then after that, we can start trying to make sense of everything.” She paused, looking him over. “If that’s what you want to do.”

Bucky nodded mutely. Wordlessly, Mags climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around him pulled him to her. He melted into her touch, burying his face in her hair, wrapped his arms around her, squeezing his eyes shut.

And there was an exhale, long and collective as they just sat for long minutes holding one another, and while Bucky felt the weight of years lost weighing heavily on his shoulders, he also felt hope for the first time since he’d come back.

He held her and stroked her hair, and she held him, her hands cradling his head, fingers playing with the baby hairs on the back of his neck. And that’s how they stayed a long moment, as Bucky hoped that the moment would never end.

It felt like it had been an eternity since he’d last held her, the events of the last week stretching out into a thousand lifetimes. He couldn’t imagine what she must be feeling. It had been five years for her since she’d been held by him. Bucky listened for a moment, trying to hear her breath catch in her chest or feel her shoulders shake. Instead he found that her breathing, and her heart rate, and her whole being was steady and calm. How she managed it, he didn’t know, and he felt that he had a reasonably steady composition as it was.

Bucky didn’t want the moment to end, for the hug to pass and for them to continue with the business at hand. Then his stomach growled, and Mags chuckled gently. “You should eat and drink some water. I know that always makes me feel better.” She murmured, pulling back, her hands trailed from the back of his neck to cup his face, her eyes lingering as she surveyed his face.

He couldn’t tell what was behind her eyes or what she was feeling, but there was a sort of disbelief and wonder to her expression. His stomach growled again, the traitor, and she smiled. “I get the point,” She said, leaning in and kissing his forehead before disentangling herself from him.

Settling back beside him, she sat the thermos back in front of him, which he took graciously. “Would you like some?” He asked, pouring some of the stew into the lid-cup of the thermos.

“I ate earlier, but thank you.”

Bucky nodded, taking a sip of the broth before picking up the spoon from the package she’d brought to him. “Do you always make green chili stew during moments of duress, or am I just incredibly lucky?” He asked, glancing up at her with a slight eyebrow raise.

Mags nodded in concession with a slight chuckle. “I didn’t plan it if that’s what you’re asking.” She glanced around the stall a moment before continuing thoughtfully, “Though, I suppose in the cosmic grand scheme of things, it only makes sense. It would put us both back at the beginning.” She shook her head. “Only, I’d argue we’re both starting off in a better place than we were then.”

“You with your farm in working order, and me with my mostly working brain and some of my shit in order?” He offered.

“I would’ve said there aren’t any Science Nazis after you this time, but I take your point.”

Bucky shook his head, taking another spoonful of stew from the lid-cup. “So why a farm?” He continued after a moment. “Why not go back to equine therapy? Steve said he started a support group after all of us disappeared. I can imagine there was a market for that sort of thing.”

“There was—is, I’m sure. There will be a need for more therapists and lawyers, I bet, in the next little bit as we all try to sort through this whole big mess,” Mags shook her head. “I dunno. I never really considered going back to equine therapy. I was in survival mode, trying to figure out how to help the community. Growing food, and building a place to gather and shelter the community in crisis seemed to be more useful.” She sighed heavily, rubbing her face. “I also don’t think I was in a place mentally to be able to provide counsel of any kind. I’m not sure what Steve was doing session to session, but given what happened this morning, I can almost completely guarantee he wasn’t in any mental state to be giving out advice, _either_. Commiseration, sure, but I couldn’t imagine _leading_ something like that.”

Then, Mags paused, waiting for some kind of response from him, but in truth, Bucky had nothing to say. Or at least, there wasn’t anything that he could say that she might want to hear.

“He offered to take you with him, didn’t he?” Mags asked slowly after a moment.

Bucky didn’t respond, taking a moment to absorb how she’d framed the question. She hadn’t asked, ‘did you know?’ Because, of course, she’d figured out that he’d known in advance. She’d seen their faces when she walked into the machine shop. She’d known something was up then and there. She also wasn’t actually asking if Steve had offered to take him along. Mags knew his relationship with Steve and what they meant to one another. She knew the lengths Steve had gone to in order to get him back both in 2016 and now in 2023. So, of course, she’d know that Steve asked him to go with him to the past. No. She wanted to know why he hadn’t fled the 21st century for 1949, like some kind of refugee from time.

“Steve went back to find his peace. I stayed for the same reason,” He answered simply.

Mags nodded, tucking another errant strand of hair behind her ear, but said nothing further. So, Bucky focused on eating the stew and drinking the water she’d brought him while also trying to figure out what it was he wanted to say next.

He wanted to know everything, about the farm, about her kids, about her and Dani, about her hopes, her dreams, her desires now that she’d been out in the world five years without him. He wanted to know where he could fit in all of this, where she might want him to fit. Was there a place for him here?

Bucky was pulled from these musings by the low rumble of thunder, and Mags muttered “shit.” under her breath.

“What is it?” He turned just in time to see her stand.

“I need to get the animals in before the storm hits. I forgot to check the weather reports this morning before letting them out, but this was in the forecast. I should’ve remembered.” She explained.

Bucky finished the stew in the lid-cup and screwed on the cap and the lid to the thermos before also standing. “Let me help.”

There was the slightest moment of hesitation as if she was preparing some quick retort about how he couldn’t help, but then the broadest smile he’d seen since he’d returned crossed her expression, and she nodded, “Okay. We have goats, sheep, cows, horses, and Sally. Cap’ and Sarge will bring them in. We just need to get them to the pens.”

“Sally?”

“The Burro. She watches out for the livestock, along with the dogs, Cap and Sarge.”

“As in, my Sally from Wakanda?”

“Oh. No.” She shook her head with a light laugh as she closed the stall door behind them and opened a stall marked ‘goats’ and a stall marked sheep before she started walking from the barn. “But I did name her Sally after your Sally from Wakanda.”

Bucky nodded, following her to the pasture gate where already the animals were starting to gather. Mags whistled, and two massive dogs came bounding up from inside the pasture. “Bring ‘em in.” She called, and they took off sprinting.

Mags had her system for bringing in the animals, and she explained it to him as the dogs pushed the menagerie of animals from the back of the pasture forward. Then, methodically, they first put away the goats and sheep before returning to the barn for halter lines, which they connected to the halters on the cows and then finally horses.

“Is this ghost?” He asked as Mags handed him the line for the grey speckled stallion.

“It is. Well spotted.” She laughed, her face flushed, her hair frizzing from the humidity that was starting to fill the air. “He’s actually turned into a spectacular workhorse. We go for a ride every morning to make sure none of the fences are down and that everything looks good in the pasture.” Mags explained as she led Shadow, the gigantic Clydesdale, into the barn.

"The pigs will be fine in the rain. They have a run that comes in and out of the barn. I’d like to lock up the chickens since it’s supposed to be a bad storm.” Mags continued, breathlessly, her eyes bright and shining, exhilarated almost.

Again, Bucky nodded and followed her to the chicken run, which housed twenty chickens so they could shoo the chickens into the coop before the rain came.

Thunder boomed overhead, the winds picking up, and then the rain came, hammering down in sheets as they rushed back to the barn from the chicken coop, the space now filled with noise, and movement and smells, as its occupants made it known that this was their place.

“Well done.” She said, patting him on the shoulder. “Now, we just have to get up the hill in this rain.”

“Or we could stay here. If you want to wait out the storm?” Bucky countered.

“It’s supposed to be raining like this for the rest of the day.” Mags shook her head, “besides. I’d rather have dry clothes and a warm mug of coffee.” She chuckled, glancing around at the barn. “This place wasn’t built for luxury.”

“Then I’ll grab the bag you brought down. And we can make a run for it.” Bucky said.

“Hopefully, you won’t have to fireman carry me this time around,” Mags called as he went to retrieve the items she’d brought for him.

Bucky smiled with a light chuckle. Now _that_ had been a whole thing. Carrying her down through the jungle on his shoulders because she’d sprained her ankle. Who could have guessed that would’ve somehow put them on the path to lead them here? 

He returned to where she was standing at the side door of the barn, the other entrances shut and soundly secured against driving wind and rain, and looked out at the torrential rain pounding the ground outside. “Fortunately, I’m wearing my arm today, so I wouldn’t have to fireman carry you in the rain. Should it come to that.”

“Not even for old time’s sake?” Mags raised an eyebrow, a smile quirking at the corner of her mouth.

“Well,” He pondered. “Maybe for old time’s sake.”

At this, she threw her head back and laughed. It was a short bright peal of laughter, but it beautiful and brilliant, and it filled his chest with warmth. “Well, let's hope it doesn’t come that, James Barnes.” She said, squeezing his right arm before redirecting her attention to the rainy scene beyond the door. “Well, the door’s unlocked, so it’s every man for themselves.”

“I’ll let you take point.”

“Very generous of you,” Mags nodded with a grin, but without another word, she charged out into the rain at a steady jog, and Bucky followed behind her with ease.

By the time they made through the back door, they were soaked through, breathing hard. Standing in the mudroom a moment, dripping with water, they glanced at one another, Bucky trying to get a read off of Mags as to what they were going to do next.

“Boots, off here, but I have towels upstairs in my bathroom we can dry off with. Then we can change into dry, comfortable clothes.”

At this, Bucky paused as he removed his boots, trying to think through his scant collection of clothes, and what out of that would be considered dry, comfortable, and clean all at once. He was coming up blank.

“I think I’m going to need to borrow your washer/dryer.” He admitted after a moment. “I don’t think anything I own presently is clean _and_ comfortable.”

“Oh. I have some of your clothes still from Wakanda.” She answered lightly, opening the door into the kitchen. “But yes, you’re more than welcome to use my washer/dryer and anything else you need.”

“You kept some of my clothes?” Bucky stammered out, unsure of what to do with that information.

Mags stopped, turning her head to look back at him. “Come upstairs with me, Bucky.” She said simply, extending her right hand to him.

She was asking for his left hand. ‘ _But it’s cold. But it might pinch. But I know it bothers you.’_ He might have protested, but instead, Bucky gently placed his left hand in her right, and closing her hand around his, she led him into the house and up to her room without another word.

Pushing open her bedroom door, she let go of his hand and entered, Bucky trailing behind her as he looked around the space in wonder.

The walls were decorated with the Wakandan tapestries and hangings she’d purchased or made when she’d been in Wakanda, the plainsmen blanket, folded neatly on the end of the long bed. There was a sleeping mat rolled up in one corner, and the dresser and side table were filled with photographs. Some were from the past five years. There was a group shot of the volunteers of “One More Chance Farm” Bill, Suzanne, Mike, Mitchell, and James standing around Mags, photos of her and Dani, photos of her with her kids. But Bucky’s gaze was drawn to the ones from before. There was the photo from New Year's Eve sitting in a frame, and there were selfies of her with Jelani and Sisay, her and the weaving group, her and the kids, and then photos of them, the most notable of which was a particularly bad one of them doing duck lips with flowers in their hair.

He remembered laughing until they’d cried. He remembered the simple pleasure of being silly and not having to think about the world and what would come next. Of course, by then, he’d already been grappling with the fact that their time together wouldn’t last. It would take a bit longer before he and Mags started to confront that as a couple. He could remember how difficult it had been, watching her come to terms with her past loss and grief, but also knowing how likely it was that he was going to likely cause her more pain and suffering when inevitably he went out to fight and didn’t come back. Then, after his final fitting for the prosthesis, Mags had told him that she was trying not to worry about the future and what it might bring because she would miss the present, miss the now, miss what time they had left.

How much time had she expected she’d get? How much had it hurt her to lose him so soon? And not just lose him, but Sam, and effectively Steve and Natasha and her whole life in Wakanda?

Bucky didn’t know, but she’d carried him with her, it seemed, placing him in the new life she built. She hadn’t been waiting for him to come back but had instead found ways to bring his memory into the future with her.

“Here we are,” Mags announced, padding toward him, wrapped in a towel and her hair wrapped in a towel as she extended two towels to him, which he took from her before she turned and opened a drawer in her dresser.

Bucky obediently started to undress, towels slung over his shoulders, he watched her riffle through various dresser drawers until she found and removed what she was looking for. Turning back toward him, she was holding his red Wakandan robe, the blue scarf folded on top.

Bucky stared, but taking it in stride, Mags rose on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Get dried off and into some dry clothes. I know you run warmer than most, but cold is still cold.”

“You kept some of my clothes?” He stammered out as she turned away to retrieve clothes from her dresser.

“I did,” Mags answered, bobbing her head in a nod. “I kept a lot of your things.” She chuckled to herself. “I’m a bit of a sentimental packrat. I thought about shadow boxes or finding some way to display some of this stuff, but I was concerned about little hands and breaking or ruining things. So a lot of it stayed up here in my room.” She explained as she slipped on a dry pair of underwear before dropping the towel on the floor so she could put on a bra and slip on an oversized linen shirt over her head, hair still wrapped in a towel

Bucky knew he should look away but couldn’t help but admire her figure a moment from where he stood before he continued to peel off his wet layers of clothes and start drying off. He paused, as he realized he was being watched, and glanced up to see Mags, surveying him. Much to his embarrassment, he felt suddenly very self-conscious, almost vulnerable under her gaze, like he had that day they’d first gone to the falls. He had a towel wrapped around his waist but was otherwise naked, his hair still dripping but now into the towel slung around his neck, but she still had a good view of everything, his scars, the metal plate in his chest, and of course a full view of the prosthesis.

“Sorry,” She apologized, blushing as she realized she’d been caught staring.

“Fair is fair,” Bucky managed with some bravado. “I was checking you out too.”

Maggie chuckled with a nod. “That is fair. But I can turn around if you don’t want me watching you change.”

“I don’t mind.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I know looking at all of this must be difficult.”

“Not at all, Bucky.” She shook her head. “I love you. All of you. I just never thought you’d be standing here in my bedroom like this.” She cracked a small, shy smile. 

“No.” Bucky conceded with a nod, “I guess you didn’t.”

Then, without another word, he unfolded the Wakandan robe she’d pulled out for him and started to put it on. It felt strange, donning the clothes he’d worn in Wakanda, particularly since he’d primarily worn them when he’d only had one arm.

He could take off the arm, of course, but he didn’t have the prosthesis cap or wouldn’t have the cap until the Princess sent someone by to collect the arm for upgrades, and he didn’t want to risk damaging or otherwise getting something entangled in the internal mechanisms of the joint. Bucky paused, glancing up at Mags, who was busying herself by moving their wet clothes and discarded towels into the bathroom.

Bucky had given her the prosthesis cap to hold onto before the battle. Would she have it? It had been five years. She’d probably gotten rid of it. After all, what would be the point of keeping it? Yet, by her own admission, she’d said she was a sentimental packrat. “Hey, Mags?” He called absently, unsure if she would even hear him. “Quick question.”

“What’s up?” She asked, emerging from the bathroom with her hair up in a messy wet bun.

“You didn’t happen to keep the joint cap, did you?”

“I did, actually.” She replied.

“Oh.”

“Would you like it now?”

“Yes, please.” He managed. “The Princess said she was going to send someone by tomorrow to pick up the prosthesis. She has some things she wants to tweak.”

“Of course,” Mags said. Turning back to the dresser, she opened up the top right-hand drawer. Her hand darted inside and immediately re-emerged with the woolen cover in her grasp. Then she turned and extended it to him.

Slowly he took it from her, inspecting it a moment before meeting her gaze. “Thank you, Mags.” It was such a small thing, and the Princess had even assured him she would send another of the caps for him when they came to take the old arm away. Yet, that Mags had kept it and furthermore had known where it was immediately after he’d asked her meant a lot.

“Always.” She smiled gently. “As I said before, a bit of a sentimental pack rack. It felt wrong getting rid of your things.”

Bucky nodded.

Mags paused, her eyes drifting to the prosthesis a moment before returning to meet his gaze. “Would you like my help?”

“Would you help me?”

“Only if you want me to.”

Bucky hesitated as he tried to figure out what he wanted to do. He knew that Princess was going to come and give the prosthesis an update before she sent him out into the world with it, but the arm was so easy to take on and off, it wouldn’t take much to remove it before she arrived the day of.

Yet there was something in him that wanted it off now, wanted it off immediately, and wanted it as far away from him as possible. Was it because he wanted to be able to pretend, at least for a moment, that he wasn’t going to have to go back out there soon? Perhaps. Perhaps, maybe, he even wanted to pretend for a moment that he and Mags were back in Wakanda and that they were going to get their evening in after all. 

It was silly to think that they could roll back the clock five years and pretend that the blip hadn’t happened, but even if it was a bit of fantasy, he wanted to be able to capture that, even if just for a moment. And how was he supposed to enunciate that to Mags? After all, she’d had five years to grieve and move on from that world, from that life, and from him.

He glanced down at the woolen cap as he turned it over and over in his hands. She would understand.

“I’d like it off for a while.” He began slowly. “It’ll be easier to pretend the world isn’t a mess, that way.”

_T_ _hat I’m not a mess. That this whole situation isn’t a mess._ There were a thousand different iterations of that that last sentence that he could’ve put in its place, but glancing up at Mags, he knew that he didn’t have to. She knew. She _understood._ How, exactly, he didn’t know, he didn’t understand it himself, but he could tell that she did. He just wanted to go back to the way things had been in Wakanda, before all of this hard started, if just for a little while.

Bucky sat down on the bed, and Mags moved toward him, “You remember the drill?” He asked as she stood in front of him.

“Support your elbow and forearm while you enter the code and detach it from the socket.”

“That’s right.” He nodded, watching as she gently but firmly grasped the forearm and elbow of the prosthesis, her eyes on him, trying to get a read on his body language. “This doesn’t hurt,” Bucky assured her gently.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you, Bucky.”

“I know.” He breathed, and in a moment, it was off, but before he could think to ask where he should place the prosthesis, she’d turned and laid it out on the dresser.

“How do you feel?” She asked, turning back as he placed the cover over the exposed joint and slipped the blue scarf over his head.

“Lighter,” He answered flippantly before he saw her grave expression. “Less like a stranger in my own body.”

“How did it work for you? Out in the field?”

“Performed beautifully. Didn’t pull or tug at my spine, or hurt me generally like the hydra model.” He explained, “The Princess has some internal things she wants to do. It isn’t anything on my end.”

Mags nodded, “You weren’t in any pain, were you? When you…you know.”

“No. It didn’t hurt. And I woke up what felt like a few moments after to go and help Steve.” He explained.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” Mags said, surveying him a moment from where she stood in front of him. “May I join you?” She asked gently.

Bucky nodded, and she sat down to his right, taking his hand in both of hers. They sat a moment in the silence before Mags shook her head with a weak chuckle. “What?”

“So, I have Captain America’s shield locked away in the other room and the Winter Soldier’s Arm on my dresser in this one. If I keep this up, people are going to start thinking I’m offing superheroes for their collectibles.” She said with bitter sarcasm.

Bucky winced.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” She added, lowering her head.

“No. It’s kinda funny, all things considered.” Bucky admitted. He knew why she was upset, or rather why he could hear the venom in her voice. Steve had just left without so much as a goodbye. He could understand why she was more than a little irritated. She’d spent the last five years trying to get Steve to move on, only for him to vanish the moment she’d gotten everyone back. It was a lot to take in. “You must have a lot of questions about what happened this morning.” He continued after a long pause.

“Yeah.” Mags breathed, leaning against him.

“What did Sam tell you? About Steve and the shield?”

“Told me Steve took the long road and that he wanted Sam to take up the mantle.” She said simply. There was a long pause before she added. “Steve left me a letter. It was bit apology, bit explanation, bit thank you.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why he couldn’t’ve just told us.”

Bucky sighed. He’d known she was going to mention that. It was one of the questions that Bucky _still_ had for Steve, and he’d known in advance that Steve was going to leave. Still, as inadequate as he felt Steve’s explanation was, Bucky also knew that Mags deserved the truth, and she deserved to hear it from him. “He knew you wouldn’t like it, and he thought that it was better no one knew, should something happen.”

Maggie exhaled, nodding. “That sounds about par for everyone involved.” Then she glanced up at him. “How are you feeling about all of this?”

He’d known that this was the next question, and still, he wasn’t prepared to answer. “I’m trying not to.” He grimaced. “Because I want to be happy for him that he got what he wanted. But I just—” He cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just feel _angry,_ and I hate that. I hate how angry I feel because I shouldn’t—”

“You have a right to those feelings, Bucky. You are allowed to feel that way. You’re allowed to angry at the situation, at Steve, at me, at the world.” She cut in. “Because what’s happening right now is really shitty and unfair, and frankly really fucked up.”

Bucky nodded, unsure of what he could say. He _did_ feel angry. He just didn’t know what to do with all of that anger pent up inside of him. What could he do? What possible outlet could he unleash all of this frustration and anger and _pain?_ Because it was pain, and it hurt, and he didn’t want it inside of him anymore, but he didn’t know what the next step was. There was no next step. “I don’t _want_ to feel this way.” He managed.

“I know.” She said softly.

Bucky could feel the white-hot tears building pressure behind his eyes, making his head feel like it was going to burst. “So, what should I do?” His voice was weak and distant as he asked it, and he could feel Mags shift slightly to face him more directly.

“Well, that’s something you’re going to have to figure out for yourself, Bucky. But I know that you shouldn’t bottle it up and pretend that it isn’t there. Because then it’ll just fester and rot you from the inside out.”

“Are you angry at Steve?”

“I am.” She admitted. “And the situation, and the world.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

At this, Mags chuckled, squeezing his hand three times. “I’m going to try to find a positive outlet to help me transform my anger into something useful. And it can be useful.”

“Can it?”

“Mhh, hmmm.” She glanced around, “It helped me build this place. But I think some of that was spite too.” Mags shook her head.

“You did an amazing job. You’ve built something amazing here, Mags.” Bucky said, hoping to deflect from what he was feeling to something more palatable.

“It is, and it beautiful, and I am proud of what I’ve been able to achieve.” She paused, glancing up at him. “But I will be the first to admit that it wasn’t all sunshine and roses, and I made some pretty poor mental health decisions there in the first year because I wanted to ignore the anger and the hurt.” Mags paused, “I—I had a bit of a self-harm relapse.” She admitted. “I was in so much mental pain trying to hold my shit together that I took it out on myself physically. What you walked in on yesterday, I was trying to ground myself so that I wouldn’t resort to cutting again.”

“Mags I—”

“I’m doing better now than I was, not perfect, but better. I have my tools and my support team, and I’m aware of my triggers.” She said before he could continue. “All of this to say, don’t let your anger, and your pain, and your frustration fester. Don’t ignore it. Allow yourself to feel what you’re feeling so that you can work through it and beyond it, and come out the other side stronger.”

Bucky sighed. _Allow yourself to feel what you’re feeling._ He wasn’t sure he should do that. Or rather, he was afraid he couldn’t. That if he did, he might drown in everything that was hitting him at the moment but sitting beside Mags, and knowing only a fraction of what she’d gone through in the past five years, he knew that he had to give it a try.

“I am angry, and I am frustrated. But I’m not angry Steve left,” He began slowly but then stopped to correct himself. “No. I’m angry, he left, but not because he left me. I’m angry at how he left when he left, the way he left. I’m angry because he left Sam to deal with the aftermath of all of this.” Bucky shook his head. “Sam shouldn’t have to deal with becoming Captain America on his own. No one should have to deal with being Captain America on their own, but adding being gone five years to the mix? That’s more than anyone should have to deal with.” Bucky grimaced again. “And I don’t know if he’ll want my help. Or if I’ll be able to help. But I just don’t want him to feel like he’s alone with this.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. And it’s all just so messy and complicated. I thought—I thought therapy might help make it less complicated, but I just feel unprepared to deal with any of this. And it just seems so _unfair._ ”

“None of this is fair,” Mags agreed, “But, don’t you think maybe you’re being unfair to yourself?” She suggested gently.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re only partway through the process. You’re not done healing yet, Bucky.”

He exhaled, nodding, “No. I know that. I just, I guess, I thought it might all make more sense after getting back out in the world.”

“Adding people into the mix?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Fair point.” Bucky conceded.

“We’re all trying to figure out this new world we’ve found ourselves in. Give yourself time to adjust, and give yourself grace for when you’re less than perfect.” Mags shook her head. “Because recovery and healing are messy, and not without its fuck-ups.”

 _Personal experience talking?_ He didn’t say it because they both knew that she knew what she was talking about. She’d lived five years of trying to figure shit out, and recover and dealing with fuck ups. “But it does get better? Easier?” He asked, hopefully.

“It does. You just have to put in the work to get better. You’re going to have to reckon with your trauma and your baggage and your past.” She glanced over at him. “And it is probably going to be really shitty for a bit while you figure this stuff out. You’re going to be angry and frustrated and scared, but now because of the time you’ve already put in, you’re going to have some tools at your disposal to help you work through all of this.” She squeezed his hand gently. “And you won’t be alone. You and Sam, you won’t be alone. I’m here for you, whatever you need. And of course, you’ll have each other too, in your own strange sort of way.” 

_You really want me and all of my baggage back in your life to destroy everything you built?_ He didn’t ask it because he didn’t really want to know the answer right now. “Yeah.” He managed, with a heavy sigh.

“We’re going to figure this out, Bucky,” Mags said adamantly.

“Five years is a long time, Mags.” _Are you sure you even want me anymore?_ He didn’t ask because she’d already told him, back in the barn, that there would always be a place for him, that she loved him, that she wanted to help him through this.

“It is.” She agreed, nodding thoughtfully. “Is that the longest gap?”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “Ten is. I think. That’s the longest stretch I don’t have any lived memory for.” He winced. “I thought I was done having to think that way, done with having to catch up and reclaim missed time. I went through all that shit to keep Hydra from taking more from me, only to have time stolen in a different way.” Bucky stopped, looking over at her, her dark eyes on him, searching him uncertainly.

“What do you need?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “I just. I’m angry I wasn’t around to help you with all of this. Angry that our time together was cut so short. Angry that our moment was cut short and that there’s no way to reclaim that time. Angry at the whole situation.”

“Angry at me?” She asked, her voice small.

“No. Mags. Never.” He said, pulling his hand from her grasp to cup her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Mags said nothing, her eyes down a moment, her right hand fiddling with her bracelet. “All of this must be strange. One minute we’re talking about having a night in, and the next, I’m five years older with another partner and five kids.”

“It is.” Bucky agreed, withdrawing his hand and placing it in his lap.

“So, what are we going to do?”

“Well.” Bucky hesitated, trying to find the best path through what he was about to say. “I don’t want to come back into your life and expect things to be the same, that there might be a place for me, with you, if there isn’t, anymore.” He reaching out again and put his hand on her shoulder, his fingers just brushing the baby hairs on the back of her neck. “I love you. Tremendously. And I know that we can’t reclaim the past five years, and we can’t just pretend that they didn’t happen. I just want to make sure that I’m not going to mess anything up for you here.” He stammered out, trying his best not to sound like a lovesick teenager, and failing.

Mags watched him as he rambled into silence, “a moment by moment exercise in consent, right?” She asked gently, placing both her hands on his shoulders.

“Right,” He echoed with a firm nod. “Daniella does know about us? Right?”

“Yes.”

“And she’s okay with…sharing you?” Bucky managed, not entirely equipped with the proper vocabulary for what he was trying to enunciate.

Fortunately, Mags seemed to know what he was getting at. “Dani knows that you’re an important part of my life, just as I know that Alejandra is a big part of hers.” She paused, “are you…okay…with sharing me?”

“I’m just honored to be worthy of your love. However, much of yourself and your life that you’re willing to share with me, I’m glad to be apart of it all and glad to get to share you with someone who loves you too.”

Mags nodded, rising on her knees, leaned in, and kissed him. “You’re a soppy, romantic, cheese ball. You know that, Barnes?” She murmured, pulling back to survey him with a wry smile.

“I think I’ve been told that a time or two.” He chuckled.

“I love you, James Barnes.”

“I love you, Magdalene Ramirez.”

There was a long pause as they both looked at one another, Mags looking at him as though she was trying to memorize the lines in his face. He could hardly blame her.

“Would you like to try to make up for some lost time?” She asked after a long moment.

“Our evening in?”

“If you’d like.”

“Is that possible…I mean…” He faded off, unsure of how to end that sentence.

“I’ve cleared the rest of my day.” She answered, “We shouldn’t be interrupted.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, “Did you ever contemplate what our evening would’ve been if—” Again, his words failed him.

“If you and half the universe hadn’t disappeared?” She offered.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know if ever thought specifics,” She continued slowly. “I know I wanted you to hold me.”

“Would you like me to hold you now?” He offered.

“I’d love that, Bucky.”

“Well, come here and let me hold you.”

Mags moved wordlessly onto his lap, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned in her head against his shoulder, her right hand against his chest, over his heart. He lowered his face into her damp hair, just breathing her in, and that was how they stayed a long moment before Mags spoke again.

“I’ve missed this.”

“Me holding you?”

“Yes. But stillness also.” She chuckled. It was a warm and mellow sound, and it buzzed in Bucky’s chest.

“Oh?” He offered, unsure of where to go with that statement.

“There was a chance for stillness in Wakanda. There hasn’t been much opportunity to be still since I’ve been back at the ranch—farm. There definitely hasn’t been time for a pause since you’ve been back. I’ve missed sharing stillness with you.”

Bucky nodded. “I missed you too.” He murmured into her hair, “Though I don’t feel like I have much of an excuse. It’s only been a week, lived time for me.”

“You’re still allowed to miss me, miss us, miss Wakanda. I know that I still do.” She paused, turning around to face him.

She was straddling him now, her face inches from his, her hands draped around his shoulders to steady herself. And for long minutes, she just looked at him, as if trying to memorize the lines of his face, as if she was going to try to draw him from memory.

“Am I the way you remember?” He asked after a long moment.

“You’re more careworn than I remember, but I think that’s more a result of the last week and a half than my faulty memory.” She chuckled, gently, her hands moving to his face, stroking his beard and his cheeks with her fingers. “Though I know I’m a little worse for wear, too. It’s been a stressful five years. I’m sure that’s aged me terribly.”

“You look just as beautiful as I remember.”

“From two weeks ago?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“I think you’re more than a little biased,” Mags teased gently, though Bucky couldn’t help but notice how her cheeks started to flush.

“You are beautiful, Mags.” He said, putting his hand under her chin, her face flushing further, the blush spreading to her neck and chest, and up to her ears and toward her hairline. “You’re beautiful, and I love you.” He said, kissing her.

“You’re a cheese ball James Barnes,” She answered, drawing him into a deeper kiss. “And I love you too.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her flush with his body. Her hands went to the scarf around his neck, and she started to remove it but faltered. “It’s okay. That’s okay.” He assured her, searching her expression for some indication of what had put her off.

Again, her eyes searched his expression, and again got the feeling Mags was trying to memorize the lines of his face, as though she might never see him again.

‘ _Because that had been her reality,’_ Bucky realized. How often had she contemplated this very scenario? How often had she wanted to talk to him, touch him, hold him, and be touched and held by him? She was handling all of this so well, taking everything with such stride, it was easy to forget that she’d struggled too.

Bucky could only imagine how horrible and traumatic it had been to lose so many people all at once. Now to have them back? It must have been difficult, working through all of that shit by herself, still working through that shit on her own, now that Steve and Natasha were gone.

“I’m here,” he said, moving his hand from her waist to her face, cupping her jaw, and stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Mags nodded firmly. “We just got dressed. You wouldn’t mind if…?” Her voice trailed off.

“I’d like that, Mags,” Bucky answered, leaning in and kissing her softly.

She returned the kiss, her hands moving back to his scarf. They parted from their kiss, and slowly and carefully, they undressed one another. The silence of the house moved in around them as they removed one another’s clothes, kissing each other’s naked bodies as they worked, the silence punctuated by their intake of breath and the sound of the rain tapping against the windowpane.

Bucky drank her in, kissing her neck and chest, running his hand over her skin, cupping her breasts, playing with her nipples. He stroked the soft skin of her inner thigh and feeling the presence of the new self-harm scars there, and planted tender kisses against them.

Mags was more frantic, her hands and lips searching as if taking a physical inventory trying to account for every scar, and line, and inch of him, but Bucky didn’t mind. He just let her work, let her take him in, and memorize him.

Together, they moved slowly and deliberately, taking their time and savoring their time and savoring the touch, and feel, and taste of one another. So much had changed. Yet, this was familiar and gentle, and beautiful, and although Bucky didn’t know what was going to happen in the morning when their evening-in ended, he did his best to stay in the moment, knowing, as they both intimately knew, that now was really all that they were guaranteed.

Yet, Bucky also knew that whatever happened next, it was going to be okay. They were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys!!!! This chapter was simultaneously both really fun to write and really difficult to get a handle on. There were all sorts of drafts and ways that this could’ve gone. I hope you like the finished product and above all I hope that it felt like a long exhale after so much tension for what’s felt like the last forever. We have three more chapter to the finish of this whole thing, and I can’t wait to show you! Thank you so much to those of you who’ve reviewed, and of course, to those of you who are lurking thank you for your continued presence! I hope you continue to enjoy, and as always, until next time, Happy Reading!


	10. Still The Same Old Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way, shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> Recommended Listening: I’ll make it up to you by Imagine Dragons; Little Wonders by Rob Thomas, Fire and the Flood by Vance Joy
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=kX_DmI1-Qg6exCld1XMYug

Dawn had broken, and there was light streaming in through the open windows. Mags was dozing gently beside him, wrapped in his arm, and a sheet, her arm thrown protectively across his chest.

Admittedly they had not gotten much in the way of sleep, but he hadn’t been sleeping well, to begin with. This was a marked improvement, so far as sleepless nights went. Unfortunately, this state of affairs was temporary. Mags would be roused soon by the alarm clock and would have to start her day, and even though he was awake, his mind spinning and racing, he’d let her rest.

Part of him wanted to turn off the alarm and just let her sleep. Still, even Bucky knew that would be an unkind thing to do to a woman how had a very, very tight schedule, even if it would give them more time in bed, just as he’d wanted that fateful morning chronologically almost five years ago, but only a week and a half ago by his lived time.

Bucky hated that he was thinking like that again, forced to think that way again. He also knew he wasn’t alone as almost four billion people were trying to figure out how to live with a chronological gap in their lived experience.

It was something he and Steve could’ve helped Sam and the others with if Steve had decided to stick around.

He winced. He knew he shouldn’t think like that either, but as he’d told Mags the night before, he felt angry about a lot of things, and that was one of them.

 _I’m going to need to find a therapist._ Bucky knew that for sure, but where to begin? How to explain to the person he was inevitably going to work with where he’d left off in Wakanda? His next thought was, then _I wonder if Mags kept my—._

“Morning,” Mags’s voice drifted groggily to him, and Bucky directed his focus to meet her gaze as she looked up at him through bleary eyes.

“Good morning.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Well enough, for being on a mattress.”

Mags nodded knowingly. She’d even offered to sleep on the floor on a reed mat with him, but Bucky had declined. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here when I woke up.” She continued, sleep still heavy in her voice.

“Like I’d run out on a beautiful dame like you?” He chuckled.

“More like a puff of smoke, but I appreciate the reassurance.” She reached up and kissed him gently stroking his face with her hand as if she was afraid her hand would go through him, and he’d be nothing more than mist and smoke.

Yet, the way she’d said reassurance caught his attention. This wasn’t about the blip. It was about something else. Was this about her being five years older than when they’d last seen one another? Was this about her family and kids? Was it something he had said or done to make her doubt how he felt about her?

Bucky looked down, surveying her, trying to find what he wanted to say.

“You wake up, it’s been five years, and one of your partners has five kids, a farm, and another partner, that’s a lot to deal with. I wouldn’t blame you if you spooked.” She continued slowly.

“Mags. I love you.” He said earnestly. “And I am proud of you and all that you’ve accomplished. And it wasn’t as if we didn’t talk about this. You having a family, a partner, a life, outside of just us.” Bucky paused.

“But?”

“I just wish I could’ve taken the journey with you,” Bucky admitted.

Mags nodded earnestly. “I wish you could’ve too, Bucky.” She paused, rolling into her stomach to look at him squarely. “But I think it was good for me to do it without you.”

“Oh?”

“In a way, I suppose, I’m glad I had to do on my own, just to prove that I could.” Mags adjusted again to where they were face to face. “But the journey’s not over. James Barnes.” She murmured, stroking his hair.

“This is true.” He nodded in concession. “I did say that I’d love to see Abuela Mags. And while you’re a long way off from that, I just hope to get to take that journey with you.”

At this, a small, hesitant smile curled at the corner of her mouth. “Well, for the record, Ava-Maria calls me Tia,” Mags shook, her head. “I don’t think I could’ve handled Abuela while I’m still in my thirties.”

“Well, you’ve managed the gaggle of children. I can’t wait to meet the gaggle of grandchildren.” He chuckled.

“Yeah. Don’t wish that on me just yet. Trying to get Sara through grade school, and get Ava-Maria _started._ ” She commented dryly. “We have a bit of time before grandchildren are in the picture, hopefully.”

 _We._ He couldn’t help but notice the use of the plural. Did she mean her and Dani? Or him and her and Dani? How could he fit? Did he fit? He didn’t know.

“You have a beautiful family.” Bucky managed after a moment.

“They could be your family, too, you know,” Mags replied firmly.

“And where would I fit? Mom’s boyfriend?”

“Better than grandma’s young hot boyfriend.” She countered.

Bucky shook his head with a small laugh. “You even found your pencil pusher partner.”

“I did.” Mags nodded. Her gaze distant a moment before she asked, “What do you think of Dani?”

“She seems nice,” Bucky said, his voice measured and even. “I’m sorry if I came across as rude at Tasha’s—”

“She understands.” Mags cut in. “She knows you’re dealing with a lot. She and Alejandra are trying to figure stuff out too. Everything is in flux.”

“It was very kind of her to come to Natasha’s memorial,” He continued after a moment.

“Dani knows how important Natasha and Steve are—were to me. Plus, Natasha had made enough appearance around the Farm to be almost considered a regular.” Mags faded off, leaning back into the mattress as her gaze wandering toward the ceiling. “She left me money. Wired it directly into my bank account with her farewell message.” She shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “I wish I could’ve told her how much I loved her and admired her.”

“I think she knew, Mags.”

“I hope so.”

Bucky didn’t know how to respond. So they faded into silence, drifting into their own world of thought.

 _A world without Natasha and Steve._ Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of that. He’d always had one or the other, or both, but now he had neither. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was a ten-year span where he and Natasha had been separated first by Hydra and then when she’d defected. Yet, somehow Bucky had always known that Natasha was out there, somewhere, living her life. A world without them, it felt like there was such a gap, such a chasm in his chest, that he wasn’t sure what he could do to fix it.

Bucky glanced over at Mags. Somehow she’d managed to do it, live without him, and Sam, and Steve, and Natasha for the past five years. He’d figure it out. They were all going to have to figure it out.

He sighed. There was so much in his head. His mind was racing, and it made things murky. This would be a lot easier if he had his journals. Bucky paused, “Mags?” He asked slowly.

“Yes, Bucky?”

“You didn’t happen to keep my journals, did you?”

“I did.” She said, sitting up, she turned to him. “Sentimental packrat, remember?”

“Right.” He nodded, also sitting up.

“There has been a number of surprising developments there, believe it or not.” She continued, fishing her shirt from the mess of blankets. Mags pulled it on, buttoning it quickly, before removing the tie from her hair and shaking it out of the bun she’d placed it in.

Bucky paused, his brain momentarily short-circuiting. “You cut your hair.” He said flatly.

She paused, surveying his expression, “I did.” She nodded slowly. “What do you think?” There was hesitance in her voice and her eyes as she asked it as if seeing her with her shoulder-length locks might change how he felt about her.

“I feel like I should’ve realized before,” Bucky said with a small chuckle. “Considering how, umm, close we were last night.”

“I can understand that you were a bit preoccupied.” She teased. Leaning over, she kissed his forehead.

“When did you cut it?” He asked as she pulled away.

“About three years ago, now. Dani cut it for me. Still, cuts it for me.” She explained, almost bashfully.

“It suits you. You look,” He paused, searching for the right word. “Lighter.”

“Thank you. It was a good exercise in letting go,” Mags paused. “I succeeded in some places, but not so much in others.” She admitted, glancing over at the dresser where the prosthesis lay, before returning her gaze to him. “I did keep your journals from Wakanda, and the one’s I gave you from my search.” She hesitated, weighing her words carefully a moment. “Steve somehow got the journals you lost to the UN back. He gave them to me for safekeeping, along with some things from Becca’s house, right before he and—” She cleared her throat as her voice seized, “before he and Nat made the jump.” 

That explained the flag downstairs, and the photograph, and the clippings. Of course, it made sense that Steve would give Mags those things. He knew about Becca and Mags’s relationship, and of course, Bucky’s relationship with Mags, but Steve also knew, or at least Bucky assumed that he had, that Mags was a keeper of memory.

A sentimental packrat, by her own admission. Her hair, an exercise in letting go, she’d just said. Yet, she hadn’t, not completely, not with the clothes, and the house, and the ranch. Sure she’d moved on, but she hadn’t forgotten, and she hadn’t let go of what was important to her.

_He was important to her._

_  
_“Thank you for keeping them.” He said slowly.

“Of course, they’re all in this drawer.” She explained, moving to the dresser and opening the top right-hand drawer. Withdrawing one of the journals from inside, she extended it to him. “If you want them or need them.”

Bucky nodded, taking the journal from her hand and opening it in his lap. It was the one he’d been writing in Wakanda, the bookmark still in the same place as if waiting for him to return. “Thank you, Mags.” He said, looking up at her.

“Always.” Mags hesitated. “There is something else that Steve gave me, before the jump, the first jump. I didn’t open it, but I think it’s important that you do.”

He gave a single firm nod, and she turned back to the dresser, removing a blueish-grayish box from on top of her dresser with both hands. She turned, extending it to him. He took the box and set it on his lap on top of the journal.

“Will you see what’s inside with me?” He asked as if somehow concerned she was going to leave to start her day while he investigated the contents.

“Of course.” Mags agreed, and Bucky waited until she’d sat beside him before he very carefully lifted the lid.

Inside there was a layer of tissue paper, which he gingerly removed to reveal what it was protecting underneath.

There, in fading pencil lines, were him and Steve. Sitting on the beach at Coney Island, their arms slung around one another, their faces bright and smiling. Steve’s face was gaunt and sickly, from before the serum. Yet, that was the Steve that Bucky remembered most. It was the Steve that Bucky had loved, the man Bucky had loved, long before the world had made him into Captain America.

Bucky then turned his attention to the other man’s face in the sketch. It was boyish and round, eyes vibrant and bright. It was him, of course, or him as he had been before the war, before life had been war, and monsters, and nightmares, and horrors. It had always made Bucky more than a little self-conscious when Steve had drawn them, seeing himself through the other man’s eyes. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder what the other man had seen in him that day he’d sketched them, their arms slung around one another. The sketch was dated January 1945. He’d remembered Steve working in this one when they’d been out on the front lines when they’d been scouting intel on the Red Skull’s train and Zola. The train he was fated to fall from. Bucky glanced down at the caption, which simply read, ‘Just in case.’

 _Just in case something happens, this is how I want the world to remember us._ That’s what Steve had said when Bucky had asked what the caption meant.

Bucky glanced over at Mags, who was sitting still beside him, her face focused down, her expression firm and unmoving as she surveyed the sketch. “Had you seen it before?”

“I have. Your sister showed them to me.” She nodded, “There are more. Under this one, but I knew that this one would be on top somehow.” Mags swallowed hard. “I’m sorry that he’s gone.”

“Yeah. Me too.” There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice now, and he shook his head, trying to clear his throat.

Bucky knew Steve had gone to the past to find peace, knowing that he’d be unable to change anything, that he wouldn’t be asked to bear the shield or _be_ anything other than just Steve Rogers. Yet, there was something in Bucky’s mind that he kept coming back to. That conversation he’d had with Mags during Dia de Muertos, all the way back in 2017, about missing the person you used to be. Had Steve believed he’d be able to get the person in the drawing back?

“Do you think he ever regretted his decision?” Mags continued after a moment.

“I could ask him if you’d like,” Bucky answered wryly.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Mags chuckled, but it was weak and humorless.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m not sure I care to know.” She admitted. “He made his choice and lived with it. I suppose my question was more rhetorical.”

He nodded. “Why do you ask?”

“As much as I miss Riley, miss what might have been if he hadn’t died. I’m not sure I’d want to go back there and try to be the person I used to be.” She explained slowly. “I guess I wonder how he fared.”

“Hard to say.” Bucky shook his head. Hesitating a moment as he tried to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. “Do you still miss her?”

“Who?”

“The person you used to be?” He continued.

“Oh.” Mags frowned, looking back down at the sketch. “I think…I think…” She began haltingly. “No. At least I don’t think as much as I used to.” Mags explained. “I think that’s who I was letting go of when I cut my hair. I was carrying her around, and wanting to get back to that person, and my hair, which I’ve honestly kept long for as long as I can remember, was a representation of my unwillingness to let myself change.” She admitted.

“Was it hard to let her go?” Bucky asked.

Mags snorted, with a nod. “I sobbed in the shower for almost an hour after Dani cut my hair. The water was freezing by the time I got out. But it was easier after that. Moving forward, figuring out how to live life without all of that _baggage_ hanging around me.”

“Ah.” He managed, following her gaze back down to the sketch. “I’m not sure I’m ready to let go of him yet.” He admitted softly.

Mags leaned against him. “It’s scary. It’s a leap of faith.” She said, putting her arm around his shoulders, her hand resting gently against his left shoulder blade. “But it’s also a chance to take everything you used to be and transform it into something new. It’s messy, and you’re going to fuck up and make mistakes, but that’s all part of it, I think.” Mags sighed, putting her head against his shoulder.

“And who should I be?”

He wasn’t asking her, not really. It was just something that he needed to put out into the universe, speak into existence because he had no clue as to where to even start.

“Whatever you want to be, Bucky.” She answered gently, her voice no more than a murmur.

“Could I stay here with you?”

“If you wanted. If that’s what will help you find peace,” Mags replied.

“But how will I know?” He turned his head to look down at her, her eyes tilted up toward him.

“You’ll know when it’s time.” She smiled.

_How?_ He was getting ready to ask but was cut short by the grating sound of her alarm clock. “Fuck.” She swore, rising from beside him and turning it off. “Sorry,” Mags said apologetically, standing in front of him.

“It’s okay. Hardly your fault.”

She nodded. “Wish we could stay in bed all day.”

“That sounds nice.”

“But, the animals won’t wait, and there are no local kids to take my goats to pasture.” Mags chuckled, leaning in, she kissed his forehead, her hands moving to cup his face, “You don’t have to make any decisions right now. You can take some time to figure it out.”

Bucky exhaled, nodding, taking in the warmth of her gentle touch and the reassurance that no pressing decisions had to be made right now. They could pretend, pretend that they were still back in Wakanda, at least in miniature with her farm, and he could be _him_ rather than what the world wanted, or what he expected himself to be. “I’d like to help you out around the place.” He said slowly. “At least for a few days. The Princess is sending someone around today to pick up the arm for some internal tweaks and modifications.”

Mags nodded, “So, the one-armed goat herder?”

“The one-armed goat herder.” He echoed.

“Well then, we should get going, White Wolf.” She smiled.

“So, we should.” Bucky agreed, nabbing a quick kiss before she moved away to the dresser.

He watched as she selected clothes and started tugging them on, savoring the moment of familiar routine as she worked. Then he eyes ventured back to the box on his lap. “What should I do with the drawings?” He asked slowly as he replaced the tissue paper and the lid.

“By all rights, they belong to you. As do the journals.” Mags answered, turning back to face him. He found that she was wearing another of his scarves, this time a green and blue pattern of the river tribe. “Along with a few other things.” She chuckled, tugging at the scarf a tad anxiously.

“The scarves suit you.” He replied, picking up both the box and the journal. He rose and took a step toward her, acutely aware of their height difference as he towered over her. “I—I don’t know what’s going to happen next for me, or where I’m going to be even.” Bucky paused. “It would mean a lot if you could hold onto my stuff for a bit. Until I get my feet under me.”

Mags nodded, taking both items from him, “I’ll look after them. And you’ll know where to find them when you want them.”

“Thank you, Mags. For everything.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Don’t thank me yet. I still have manual labor for you to perform.” Mags reached up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “And we still have to find your something appropriate to wear.”

Bucky nodded, watching as she returned the journal to its place and placing the box of sketches beside his prosthesis, an odd but poignant metaphor of who he’d been and what he’d become in the meantime. But there was no time to linger on that. Mags found him a white t-shirt, which she kindly tied the left sleeve into a tidy bow for him to wear, along with a pair of Steve’s old jeans and a large pair of thick wool socks—pulling all the clothes on, along with a leather belt of Steve’s and the large blue scarf from the night he surveyed himself in the mirror. “Can you…would you…” He glanced over at Mags, who was back in the room after ducking out to start coffee downstairs. “Hair?” Bucky asked awkwardly.

“Up?” She offered uncertainly.

“Yeah?”

“I can do that.” Mags smiled.

After a brief bit of maneuvering, she managed to pull his hair up into a style she referred to as a ‘hipster man bun,’ where the bun was sitting at the crown of his head. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole situation, but he knew he didn’t _look_ like the Winter Soldier or even Bucky Barnes, and he certainly didn’t know how to feel about that presently. Maybe that was okay, maybe that was what he needed as he tried to sort out what he wanted to do, or even who he wanted to be.

He tried not to think too long about that. After all, they had work to take care of. They proceeded downstairs and made breakfast, and as Mags reviewed the to-do list for the day, Bucky settled into the warm feeling of familiarity that had descended upon them. It was a strange sort of double déjà vu, from both Wakanda and even further back to their beginning in the barn when One More Chance Farm had been Last Chance what felt like a lifetime ago.

Finishing breakfast and their coffee, they started out into the damp morning air to tackle the morning to-do list. Moving in tandem and reacting to one another without speaking, Bucky felt as though they’d been doing this for years, as if on the same wavelength.

They didn’t listen to music or talk much, mostly engrossed with their tasks as they moved around the barn and the farm, only occasionally stopping to plan out their next chore or to exchange a quick kiss or smile. It was nice, working with just the two of them, savoring the presence of the other person without the need to fill it with words, savoring the slow pace of farm life and basking in the quiet of the farm in the absence of the noise that it had been filled with over the past week and a half.

 _You could do this for a living, you know. Retire, and help Mags run the farm, make small changes in this corner of the world, make good that way._ A small but persistent voice in the back of his head reminded him.

It was true. He knew this was an option. He’d have to talk it through with Mags, and Sam, and likely the U.S. Government and the U.N., but he could do it. He could walk away from his life as the Winter Soldier and live his days out in peace. It was a route that was open to him.

Fortunately, before he could become too deeply embroiled in that debate, it was time to come in for lunch before the afternoon rush hit. They warmed up leftovers from the last few days and took a breather at the kitchen table while Mags went through messages on her phone and planned out the rest of the day.

“So, what do we got, Mags?” He asked, watching her brow furrow in concentration as she squinted at her phone screen.

“Well. We have a group of afterschool kids around three with Mike and Dani. Bill will be by around 2:30 to help me set up.” She paused, glancing over the phone at him. “And Nakia should be by in a bit to pick up your prosthesis.”

“How’d you—I mean—what? Why didn’t—” Bucky stammered out a moment, patting his pockets for the phone that wasn’t there.

“The Princess texted me because she was otherwise unable to get ahold of you on your cell. Which I don’t have the number for now that it comes to it.” Mags explained with a grin.

“Ah.” He nodded, “This seems to be a reoccurring theme.” Bucky shook his head. “I didn’t mind the kimoyo bracelet, but a cell phone seems like a pain to keep up with. Call me old fashioned, but---” He cut himself off. “No. We’re not doing that. Give me your phone number. I’ll put it into my cell when I get the chance.”

“Fair,” Mags chuckled, picking up the pen she’d been using for the to-do list. “Well, give me your hand, James Barnes.”

He obliged, watching as she carefully wrote out her number on the fleshy part of his thumb. “All of this to say, once we’re done with lunch, you need to get a hold of Nakia.” She said, letting go of his hand and recapping the pen.

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded with a heavy sigh. _Right. The Arm._ And somehow, he’d nearly forgotten about that.

“Hey.” Mags soothed, putting her hand on his as if sensing the direction his mind was going. “Just a tune-up, James, nothing more, nothing less. After that, you don’t have to think about anything else for a bit.” Reaching across the table, she kissed him. “If you want, you can come out and join the gang after Nakia leaves. I’d love to introduce you to everyone.”

“That sounds good.” He squeezed her hand three times. “Thank you, Mags.”

“Always. James Barnes. Always.” She rose and kissed him on the cheek again before sliding her hand from his. “I have to get going on the stuff for the afternoon. Text me your number when you get to your cell phone.” Mags teased gently, rounding the table. She slid her hands across his shoulders on the way to the back door.

Bucky waited for the door to close behind her before he made a move. Rising slowly, he headed up the stairs to the master bedroom. He could feel the tension creeping into his shoulders, neck, and back. _You don’t have to think about anything else for a bit._ Mags had seen right through him and what he was feeling. It felt like an ax hanging over their heads, or over his head, rather. What did Mags have left to fear? She’d already lost him for five years. No. The arm, the prosthesis, represented a choice for him, and he would have to reckon with that sooner than he wanted to think about.

Fishing his cell phone from his jacket pocket, which was hanging in Mags’s bathroom, Bucky responded to Nakia’s texts. Then entering Mags’s cell number and texting her his information, Bucky walked back out into the master bedroom, slipping the phone into his front pocket. He stopped squarely in front of the dresser, eyeing the glinting vibranium arm sitting inertly on top of the dresser. Reaching out to pick it up, he paused, opening the right-hand drawer surveying the contents carefully.

_Sentimental Packrat._

A small, reserved smile passed over his face.

So she’d held onto his Bao set, and his journals, and their letters, and the small ins and outs of living in Wakanda. She’d kept his sandals, leather belt, and satchel. Everything neatly organized and tidy, just as it had been in Wakanda after she’d moved in with him. Carefully removing the satchel from the drawer, he placed the first journal and the last journal in the drawer inside the satchel before closing the drawer. His brain was loud. Journaling would be good for him while he waited for Nakia.

Pulling the satchel over his head, Bucky grabbed his prosthesis off the dresser and walked downstairs. Entering the living room, he placed the prosthesis on the coffee table and sat down on the couch.

The house was quiet, and he had a while before Nakia was supposed to arrive. Momentarily weighing his options for what to occupy his time with, Bucky removed the first journal from the satchel and carefully opened it across his lap.

It was all there. He’d rather expected the UN to rip out or redact pages, but instead, he found that everything was as he’d left it, now almost seven years ago. He flipped through the papers, glancing at his cramped, nearly illegible scrawl. What he was looking for, Bucky didn’t know, but it felt important that he looked back at where he’d been when he’d started journaling, as he’d desperately tried to piece his mind back together.

His mind had been so fractured, and he’d been frantic, trying to capture every memory, every scrap of detail, every bit of information about his past, and who he’d been. He’d jolted awake in the middle of the night and written for hours, trying to write down exactly what his apartment with Steve had looked like in 1941. He’d recorded the most mundane of details, down to which streets he’d taken to work back when he’d worked as a longshoreman down at the shipyard. Of course, there were other things in the journals, the timeline of the Winter Soldier’s kills, and who his victims had been.

Bucky stopped as he came to Mag’s name and some of her life story written out in a careful and steady hand compared to the rest of his ramblings. It had been important to him to carefully document the names and biographies of those he’d killed on behalf of Hydra. It was like he’d been trying to measure the weight of his crimes in some way that was tangible, knowable even. Writing Mags’s name and life in the journal had been one of the most difficult to stomach. It had been one of his first choices after Hydra, and it had cost the life of the woman who’d sheltered, fed, clothed, protected, and healed him.

 _Only he hadn’t gotten her killed._ That had been one hell of a discovery, which he’d then noted by scratching out the date of her assumed death and replacing it with ‘status, alive.’ Yet, he’d still been wracked with guilt. After all, he’d ruined her life and the lives of all of involved with Last Chance Ranch. Hadn’t he?

In Wakanda, Mags hadn’t been able to give him an answer if her sacrifice had been worth it if her choice to help him had been worth the pain she’d endured. Then, yesterday she’d told him that he’d saved her. So was that her answer to the question he’d posed so many years before?

He didn’t know.

“James Barnes.”

Bucky looked up to see Nakia walking through the front hallway toward him carrying the familiar metallic prosthesis case. “Nakia.” He nodded as he snapped the journal shut and stood up to greet her.

“It is very good to see you. May I give you a hug?” She smiled, putting the case down.

“I think the occasion calls for it,” He answered, setting the journal on top of the satchel. Bucky then rounded the couch to give her a quick embrace. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” Nakia answered as they withdrew from the hug.

“I was surprised that the princess sent you. I thought you’d have more important things to take care of.” Bucky admitted sheepishly. Or otherwise, _why send one of Wakanda’s top intelligence officer on an errand to pick up a piece of tech for maintenance?_

“The princess trusts me, and anyway, I wanted to see how you and Magdalene were getting along now that you’ve returned.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “We’re doing okay, I think.” Bucky paused. “Did Mags stay in contact with anyone from Wakanda after she left?”

“There were sporadic emails to Teela and Sisay, updating everyone on the Farm and the progress she was making.” Nakia paused, “Omondi and Jelani were taken in the blip.”

“I’m glad she stayed in touch, to the best of her ability,” Bucky said. “I do miss everyone.”

“And everyone misses you, White Wolf,” Nakia replied.

“When you get back. If you could send them my regards, and my thanks. I would be tremendously thankful.” He managed in three goes, trying best to formulate what he hoped was an appropriate message. In the face of so much change, Wakanda had helped him in ways that no one else could. He would be forever indebted to all they had done for him. He only wished there was something materially he could do to express his gratitude.

“I will pass along the message when I deliver the arm to the Princess Shuri.” Nakia reached down and picked the case back up again. “Speaking of. I’m afraid I do not have much time.”

“Of course.” He nodded, motioning her over to the couch. He retrieved the prosthesis stepping back to allow her to open the case so he could set it inside.

When the prosthesis was carefully secured inside the case, Bucky walked Nakia through the house to the front door where she turned, hand outstretched to shake his. “It was good to see you again, James Barnes.”

“It was good to see you too.” He replied, taking and shaking her hand firmly.

“We will see one another again soon. I have no doubt.”

Then, she turned and climbed into the waiting vehicle, the driver already inside with the engine going. Bucky returned inside the house, closing the door behind him before they could drive away.

Sinking down on the couch, he exhaled a long slow breath, trying to decipher what he was feeling. The prosthesis was off and away, meaning he had some time to figure stuff out before he was called back into action again.

Picking the journal back up, he opened it again and resumed flipping through the pages. _Who was I? Who am I now? What Am I? What did I do? What am I going to do?_

That was the reoccurring theme he found within the pages. Now Bucky had some answers, but even more questions.

Steve was gone, Natasha was dead, Sam is Cap. Everyone from his past, both from 1945 and the Red Room, was gone. He was free to choose his own path. Or at least that’s how it appeared at the moment. So, what sort of man would he choose to be? What sort of life would he choose to lead? And perhaps, more importantly, what consequences would his actions yield?

Bucky glanced around the living room, at the photos of Mags, Dani, her family, friends, and volunteers on the wall, at the ofrenda, at his flag and picture, and Riley’s flag and picture, at the loom and guitar, and at all the different signs of the past, present, and potential for the future embodied in the single space.

Closing the first journal, he returned it to the satchel and retrieved the other one he’d brought down with him, but stopped short of opening it at the sound of the front door opening and heels on the hardwood floors. “Hello?” He called uncertainly, wondering if perhaps Nakia had forgotten something.

Only Nakia hadn’t been wearing heels. He remembered too late as none other than Dani emerged from the hallway, a bewildered expression on her face. “Oh! Hello, James Barnes.” A smile stretched across her face as she recognized him.

“Daniella,” He nodded. “Mags is outside.” He explained quickly as if that somehow explained why he was in the house by himself.

“I saw when I drove up,” Dani answered, stopping short of the couch. She paused. “Would you mind if I joined you a moment?” She asked, hesitation crossing her expression for the first time.

“Not at all.” Bucky shook his head, stooping down to scoop up his journals and satchel so she had someplace to sit on the couch.

Dani nodded, rounding the arm of the couch, sat at the far end, turning to face him. “I’m sorry there wasn’t much chance to chat with you during Natasha’s memorial.” She began slowly. “Mags told me some of what Natasha meant to you. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Bucky paused, struck by the sudden realization that no one had said that to him as of yet. Because, aside from Mags, no one else knew what he and Natasha had been to one another. Mags had been busy and dealing with so much. They hadn’t really talked about Natasha at any length. “Thank you,” He managed.

“Mags also told me what happened yesterday. Not details, of course. But I am sorry that you’ve lost so many near to you. It all seems a bit unfair.” Dani continued.

Bucky nodded wordlessly. What was he supposed to say to that? _That’s just life? Well, it’s not like waking up after 70 years and realizing I’ve been brainwashed and forced into murdering people._ It hardly seemed the appropriate response in the given circumstances. Anyway, Dani was being sympathetic in a situation where she had more than enough cause to be hostile and unfriendly. “How is your partner, Alejandra, doing?”

“Doing all right. Adjusting. Trying to get her feet under her. Anxious to meet Mags and you.” Dani said, a smile spreading across her face as surprise crossed his.

“Me?” He spluttered.

“You are my partner’s partner, and you were also blipped, or whatever it is they’re calling it, so I’d say you two have a bit in common on that basis alone,” Dani explained.

“Has she met Mags yet?”

“No. Not yet. But I’m sure her and Mags will get along.”

“In all fairness. I’ve yet to meet someone Mags _doesn’t_ get along with.” Bucky supplied.

“She is truly gifted in that way.” Dani agreed. “She has this radiance, this—this light to her that seems to draw people in, like a bug lamp but without the zapping. Though, she did have a go around with a number of higher-ups when it came to starting the after school program. That was the closest to a row that I’ve seen her have.”

“That sounds about right. On all counts,” Bucky chuckled. “How did you two meet?”

“Through Mike. When they started up the after school program, they were trying to get more of a support framework put together. That woman was ready to do it all herself. Fortunately, Mike, Bill, and Suzanne made sure that didn’t happen, particularly after adopting Bianca and Ava-Maria. But she took everything in such stride, and was funny, and kind, and generous, and was genuinely interested in helping people rather than just making a show like she was helping people.” Dani said, a hint of dreamy recollection in her voice.

“I’m glad you found each other,” Bucky commented softly. “Sounds like you make a great team.”

“We do make a great team. And she’s a great mom. And together, we’ve built a strange sort of family.” Dani paused. “She wants you to be apart of that too, you know, James.”

“Bucky,” He corrected almost without thinking.

“Of course. Bucky.” Dani nodded.

There was a long silence as Dani silently sized him up. What she was measuring and what her conclusions were was anyone’s guess, but he hoped that she was satisfied with what she found. He wanted Dani to like him, wanted someone that Mags loved to approve of his relationship with her. It was a strange scenario to find himself currently occupying, but compared to others he’d been in recently, this was preferable. “I wish you could’ve heard how Mags talked about you when you were gone and how much it hurt to watch her try to convince Steve and Natasha to stay.” Dani began slowly. “There is a light to her, but it was never brighter than when she was talking about you.”

Again, Bucky was at a loss for words. He’d often noted the light around Mags. He’d seen it even back on the ranch, in the darkest days, at the beginning of all this. So to think that he’d been a source of her light, of the joy, and energy, and warmth she brought to the world? It was almost too much to take in.

Yet, this wasn’t _just_ Mags they were talking about. Dani, and the kids, and the farm, they were all part of Mags’s life, apart of Mags’s family. They would certainly have a thing or two to say about him joining it, wouldn’t they?

“And do you want me to be apart of that family you’ve built? Do her kids? Her friends? Her farm volunteers?” He managed after a moment, trying to keep as much of the skepticism out of his voice as possible.

Dani surveyed him again, taking in his question and turning it over in her mind before responding. “Magdalene and I both know the place and importance we hold for one another, emotionally, romantically, physically. I also know Magdalene would make all the world her family if that were possible. I know how boundless her love for others is, and I know how important you are to her. We’ve discussed this, discussed how this plays out, and I would not presume to deny the woman I love a chance to add someone else to this family we’ve created. ” She paused, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “The question I have for you, Bucky Barnes, is do you want to be apart of the family we’ve created?”

 _Yes._ That was his answer. Yes, he wanted to take part in the family she’d built here with Dani, and the kids, and the farm. Yes, more than anything, that’s what he wanted, but he wasn’t sure he could, wasn’t sure he should partake in such a life, not when there was still so much for him to do out there. “I’m not sure I’d be able to stay to take part for long.” He answered slowly.

“Family doesn’t mean you never leave,” She countered gently. “Family means having a place to come back to, have people to come back to when it's time to find your way back.”

“Home.” Bucky said softly.

“Home.” Dani agreed.

“But you do want me in the family?” He continued after a beat of silence, still seeking that affirmation that he wasn’t somehow invading upon what she and Mags had created over the past five years.

“Yes. I do” She bobbed her head. “In the same way that I hope Alejandra will want to be apart of this family of ours as well.”

Bucky could feel something in his chest ease, and he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That means a lot to hear that, Daniella. Thank you.”

“Of course, Bucky Barnes. But please, call me Dani,” Dani smiled. “Also, I should change so I can go and help Mags. Are you going to be joining us out there today, or are you sufficiently peopled out?” She asked as she rose to her feet.

“I don’t know that I’d be much help.” He admitted.

“We could always use another set of hands,” She shrugged. “But it is, of course, up to you.”

“I appreciate it.” Bucky said, also standing. “Thank you.”

“We’re both Mags’s partners. It only seems right that we help one another out every once in a while.”

“Then I owe you one, Dani.”

“Yes, you do. But I’ll try not to keep score.” Dani laughed.

“Thanks for that.”

“Anytime. And I am sorry to cut this short, but unfortunately, I do need to go get changed and help out with the kids down there.”

“I won’t keep you.” He nodded.

“Just remember, the offer’s open.” She said before retreating down the hall to the downstairs bathroom.

Feeling sufficiently purposeless, Bucky collected the satchel and returned upstairs to put them back where he’d found them. By the time he came back downstairs, Dani was gone, but her voice and the voices of at least a dozen schoolchildren echoed up from the barn and animal pens below.

 _We could always use another set of hands._ Bucky appreciated how casually she’d said it, without stumbling over the plural in her sentence in the face of his singular appendage. He liked how she’d teased him about keeping score. He liked how she’d described her relationship with Mags. He liked the way she’d framed family and framed his participation in it. He liked her, and furthermore, he could understand why Mags loved her and had built a life with her.

_And she wants me to be apart of it._

Well. If he wanted to belong to it, to them, it meant he needed to participate in this world, this life, this family of strangers Mags had assembled.

Anyway, what was his alternative? Sit inside and skim through his journals? That wouldn’t bring him any sense of peace or give him the answers he was looking for. Besides, he’d enjoyed the morning, with its routine and familiarity, and he did miss the kids who’d often joined him while he worked in Wakanda. Who’s to say that helping with the after school program wouldn’t provide the same comfort that the morning had brought?

Before he could overthink it and talk himself out of it, Bucky walked out the back door and down the hill where there was a general rush of activity taking place.

There were kids, ranging from what looked like the age of nine to almost eighteen, working with Dani, Mags, Mike, and a few others Bucky didn’t know were spread out around the farm. Dani was showing some of the kids which weeds they should pull and which ones were edible and that they should keep. Mags was down with a group of the kids, showing them how to milk one of the cows. Mike was with a group of teenagers explaining how to change a tire and check the fluids on the truck they had up on a jack.

Walking over to where Mags was giving her demonstration, he caught the last bit of the lecture she was giving. “Now. What are we going to do with all of this milk we’re getting from her?”

“Drink it?” One of the kids suggested, this created a chorus of ‘well duhs’ from the assembled company.

Mags nodded her head. Her attention focused on the cow and the bucket she was spraying the milk into. “Yes. What else?”

None of them answered. Bucky was sure they all knew what dairy products came from a cow. Instead, it was that all of them were enraptured by what Mags was doing. Was this their first time seeing a cow this close? Or watching a cow get milked for the first time?

“Cheese?”Bucky suggested.

To her credit, Mags didn’t jump or start at his voice. Instead, she nodded her head enthusiastically without looking up, even as all the kids' eyes and heads turned to look at him, staring curiously at him, trying to make sense of the newcomer. “This is Bucky Barnes. And he makes excellent goat cheese.”

“Ewww, goat?” There was a round of wrinkled noses and disgusted expressions from a few of the onlookers.

“It’s actually quite tasty,” Bucky said.

“What does it taste like?” One of the kids, a little African American girl, asked.

“It’s sourer than cow cheese, but rather than being a hard cheese, it’s soft.”

This earned another round of ‘ewwwws’ but more in the interested ‘oooohhs’ type of tone.

“Perhaps, you’d like to talk through the process of cheese making while I finish this,” Mags suggested. “Though for the record, _butter_ is the answer I was looking for, and it’s what we’ll be doing for the afternoon and that you’ll get to take home with you.” She glanced up at him with a smile. “Take it away, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky was suddenly aware that all eyes were on him, as the kids diverted their focus from the fascinating process of milking a cow, to…well…him. “How many of you know that cheese is just a type of mold?”

“Like, the cheese in a sandwich? That’s mold?” One little boy, a redhead with a face full of freckles, asked in disgust.

“The very same.”

“But I thought mold was bad. We have to throw out food when it’s molding.”

“Some mold is bad. But the process of making cheese ensures that it’s good mold.”

Now he had their undivided attention now, and so he plunged on, doing his best to explain the various processes with as much detail as he could manage for the age group he was speaking with. They were curious, particularly about the mold bit. Yet, Bucky knew that he was but a distraction to allow Mags time to finish milking the cow, and by the time he was done, she was ready to move them out to the picnic benches, where Bill had set up the afternoon activity station with butter churning kits.

The kids from the various group activities all assembled at the picnic benches, and Bill explained the activity before letting them get at it. The older kids assisted the youngest children with their butter kit, while the adults walked around to provide further assistance and instructions as need be.

Bucky stood back and out of the way, watching the general ebb and flow of activity, pausing only as he felt another presence settle at his side. “Long time, no see.” He turned to see Mike standing beside him, arms crossed, eyes surveying the group.

“Good to see you. You’ve been busy.” Bucky replied.

“Yeah, this was all Ramirez, of course. Decided to join the rodeo for a bit, huh?”

“While I can.” He answered carefully.

“That’s good.” Mike nodded, “She’s happier today. Then again, she’s always happier when the people she cares for are close by. We hope you get to stick around for a bit.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, nor did he get the chance to, before Mike was called away to help Dani with corralling the group of kids to clean up before shooing them back onto the bus.

Still, the day wasn’t done yet. After wishing Dani off, Mags, along with Mike and Bill, started bringing the animals in for the night.

Bucky took the initiative to set up the feed for the night, and when all the animals were penned, Bill and Mike took off for the night with little in the way of fanfare.

“Well. That was fun. How you holding up there, James Barnes?” Mags smile, her tone light, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the evening, and the activity.

“Not too bad. Was nice to be out and around people. Did the kids have fun?”

“So far as I can tell,” Mags answered. Reaching up, she pecked him on the cheek. “Come on. Let’s head up. Bianca and Alecia are here with Ava Maria making dinner, and Sara and Diego should almost be here. It’s spaghetti night.” She commented casually, taking his hand, and twining her fingers with his, she led him up back up toward the house. “Dani said you two got a chance to talk.”

“A bit.”

There was an expectance in her silence, and Bucky scrambled to find the right words. “I like her. I’d like to get a drink and chat with her when she doesn’t have pressing appointments,” He said.

This must have satisfied Mags because she nodded and led him into the house. They removed their boots and washed their hands before entering the kitchen where Bianca and Alecia were in the kitchen, Bianca standing in front of the stove, stirring a large saucepan, as Alecia washed and chopped vegetables for salads, while Ava Maria sat at the kitchen table, drawing with crayons and white paper.

“Tia Maggie, look at what I drew for you!” Ava-Maria hopped down from the chair and rushed over to Mags, brandishing a sheet of paper.

“Well, let me see,” Mags crouched down to eye level with the girl and took the paper, examining it carefully. “It’s beautiful. And it’s for me?” The girl nodded seriously. “Thank you, Mija. I’m going to put it on the fridge so that everyone who comes in will see it! How was school today?”

Ava Maria started talking in a mix of Spanish and English, and Mags nodded along as the child talked about what she learned, and her friends, and the Byzantine world of the preschool playground.

“Hey Bucky, Make yourself useful and help us set the table,” Alecia called, and he realized he’d been standing there, motionless, trying to find his bearings.

“How many are we expecting?”

“The five of us, plus Diego and Sara, who should be here any minute with some garlic bread.” Alecia paused, doing a double-take.

“It’s at the cleaners.” He offered.

“Ahh. Yeah. That seemed like a dry clean only type thing.” Alecia nodded knowingly. “Plates are to the left of the stove, and the silverware is in the center drawer. I’ll double back for glasses and ice after I put this on the table.” She said, motioning to the massive salad bowl with her chin.

“I can get the glasses and ice,” Mags interjected. “Any word from Diego and Sara?”

“Last I heard, Diego had just picked Sara up from after school practice, and then they were swinging by the grocery store to get some pre-made garlic bread,” Bianca said.

“Oh, don’t sound so disparaging, just because it’s not from our garden.” Diego’s voice cut into the fray. “Hey, Bucky.” He nodded in acknowledgment before continuing into the increasingly crowded kitchen.

“Wash up, and get the garlic bread into the oven to toast,” Mags instructed. “Ava-Maria put away your drawing materials, and go with Sara to wash your hands. Bianca, you can fix yourself and Ava a plate first. I know you’ll have to leave early to get Alecia to work.”

“No problems there, mom, we came in separate cars.”

Mags directed the chaos in the kitchen just as she had outside during the after school program, just as she had for Natasha’s memorial, and beyond. Yet, in the chaos, there was something else too. There was light, and warmth, and love that radiated from the kitchen, and from the persons occupying it, even as they bickered back and forth.

There was a wave of activity as Mags pushed them toward the kitchen table. As serving dishes and their appropriate serving utensils were laid, there was a jockeying of position as everyone found their place at the table. Bucky realized that the only place left for him was at the far end of the table, opposite Mags, who occupied the seat at the table's head.

He sat down in the empty chair and was swept away by the noise and energy and pure, feral, sibling energy of the dinner table. Fortunately, he was able to divert the serving dishes and piled his plate high with spaghetti and meat sauce, a leafy green salad with massive cherry tomatoes tossed with a vinaigrette, and several generous squares of garlic bread. A large pitcher of sweet tea was also handed around, and everyone was able to fill their glass.

Bucky glanced at Mags, who surveyed the scene looking every inch of the amused but slightly exasperated parent she was at present. She caught his eye and cracked a small smile, which he answered with a nod.

Then, just as the noise and activity peaked, it died away as everyone focused on eating, and with mouthfuls of pasta, salad, and bread, there wasn’t _much_ time to snark at one another. For a few minutes, there were the general sounds of eating before Mags broke the silence with a single well-placed question, “So how was everyone’s day? Sara, let’s start with you and work our way around.”

“It was fine. Calc quiz went okay. I made a 79. But I’ll talk to Mrs. Williamson about getting a tutor to help me study for the upcoming test.” Sara answered with all of the heaviness that one felt during grade school.

“Hey, that’s awesome. Improvement is improvement. But it sounds like you have a plan.” Mags said firmly. “And band practice?”

“All right? Trying to figure out how to incorporate people who were blipped still. Do you think we could hold a fundraiser to help with student fees for instruments and uniforms and stuff?”

“I think we could. If you brainstorm with some of your friends and come up with a proposal. I think me and Mr. Stephenson could work something out. That sound good?”

“Yeah. We can do that.”

“Awesome. That’s really sweet of you to even think about doing something like that.” Mags nodded, “Diego? How’d class go last night?”

“Boring. Was waiting for you to call to bail me out but figured you must’ve been busy.” He answered, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth as Diego glanced over at him with a knowing expression.

“The storm caught me off guard, and we were focused on bringing the animals and bedding them down for the evening,” Mags explained, perhaps a little too quickly, which created a round of smirks and tittering.

“So, Bucky,” Diego continued, turning to him directly. “What do you make of all of this _stuff_?” He said, motioning vaguely.

“You talking about the farm, you kids, or the world in general?” Bucky asked.

“Eh. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give us. You have any embarrassing stories about mom?”

Bucky glanced a moment at Mags, who was focused down on her plate, very pointedly not making eye contact with anyone. The other table occupants were all leaning in, ever so slightly, waiting on bated breath to hear what he was going to say next.

“I do.” Bucky replied, “But I don’t just give something for nothing. What do you have in exchange?”

“Well. We can catch you up on the last five years.” Diego suggested.

“Four and a half, really.” Bianca amended quickly.

“So, you tell us one. We tell you one?” Alecia chimed in.

“Hey now, hey now. I _am_ sitting right here. You aren’t allowed to gang up on me like this.” Mags protested with a light laugh.

“It’s not ganging up on. It’s unionizing.” Diego reasoned.

“Ooh! Let’s call Dani. We can get her in on this too!” Sara suggested, pulling her cell out of her pocket.

“Yeah. That’s a great idea. See if she wants to FaceTime. We can set her on the table and pretend that she’s here too.” Alecia agreed.

Bucky glanced at Mags, who was just grinning and shaking her head. “Ooh, Bucky, you should call Sam. I’m sure _he’d_ have shi-stuff on mom, too.” Sara added her nose down in her phone as she texted.

“I’ll see what I can do to get a hold of him.” Bucky chuckled as he removed his phone from his pocket. “In the meantime, Alecia. How was your day?”

There was a chorus of ‘oohs’ from around the table, and Alecia nodded, taking a drink of her tea before clearing her throat. “Well played, very well played. I see why mom wants you around.” She said. “Ehh. It was fine. Slept, cleaned house did a bit of meal prep. I have work this evening, so the real fun begins here in a few hours. It’s third shift so, that’s when all the real…errr _exciting_ stuff happens. Been getting some interesting calls since you all got back.”

“I’ll bet.” Bucky agreed. “I’m sure you worry your mother to death.”

Alecia glanced a moment at Mags who’s expression was smooth and noticeably neutral, and then back at him while formulating her thoughts. “I’m sure _a lot_ of things we do worry her, but I don’t think helping people is one of them.”

“Fair.” Bucky nodded.

“B? You wanna tell the good man about your day?” Alecia asked with playful sarcasm after a brief pause in the conversation.

“Worked, it was busy. It’s been busy since, well, the blip. But busy is good.” Bianca answered as she industriously speared salad onto her fork. “So, are you going to text Sam Wilson or not?”

“Dani says she’s busy,” Sara reported. “But if James Barnes would give me his contact information, she’d be willing to send over a complete, and I quote, ‘dossier on all the sh-stuff Mags got up to in the last five years,’ end quote.”

At this, Mags blushed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, but with a massive grin on her face. “Well, let me see if I can get ahold of Sam. He might have something to save the day.” Bucky said resolutely.

A hush fell upon the room as Bucky texted Sam. Sam, fortunately, responded almost immediately with a block of text. “Well, unfortunately, Sam Wilson is in the middle of dinner with his mother and sisters at the moment, but he sends his regards, _and_ he encourages quote ‘the one and only Mags Ramirez to tell them about how we met, and about that other time in college with the sparkly cowgirl hat,’ and then there is a winky face emoji. End text.”

All eyes went from him to Mags, who chewed on the side of her mouth, trying to subdue the smile. “oooh Samuel Thomas Wilson, you slick son of a—” she cut herself.

“Oh?” Bianca glanced between Mags and him. “Do _you_ know the story, Mr. Barnes?”

“Bucky, please. And how she and Sam met? No. Not really. But I think I know about the sparkly cowgirl hat.” He smiled at that last part, not the least because Mags went a brilliant shade of red from the tips of her ears to her neck, and Bucky would guess to her chest too.

“Well. The sparkly cowgirl hat is easy enough.” Mags began after taking a sip from her glass. “I was in college and was at a party. After getting positively _wasted,_ I was dared to take a joy ride around town on horseback. The stipulation, of course, being that I only wore a sparkly cowgirl hat.”

“And you did it?” Alecia raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Of course.” Mags scoffed, _I’m not a coward_. She didn’t say before adding. “I did _ALSO_ get arrested for public indecency, public intoxication, and animal endangerment. And this _was_ back in Texas too. It’s too cold here to think about going around in a state of undress at any point in the calendar year. ”

“Like a rhinestone cowboy—” Diego began sing-humming, which drew a round of laughs from everyone present, except, of course, Ava-Maria, who looked around unsure of what _exactly_ was going on.

There was a long-drawn-out silence as she took another drink from her glass, “As to how Sam and I met.” She began. “I was visiting a bar my girlfriend at the time, Rosie, was bartending at, it was near the Air Force base, and was frequented by meathead military guys when they had passes of base. I was off duty as an EMT and was getting ready to go to work, so I wasn’t drinking, but just chatting Rosie up during her shift before I had to leave.” Mags paused, trying to find her way through it. “There was a customer, a snot-nosed gentleman, shall we say,” She glanced at Ava-Maria, who was watching her as she spoke. “Who was making some very not _nice_ conversation with my girlfriend. I tell him to knock it off, and he says in a _not_ very polite way that he won’t, and he thinks that I’m being a nosy busy body and to mind my own business.”

Mags cleared her throat. “So. I’m about to punch him in his dumb face when none other than Samuel Wilson slides in and tries to de-escalate the situation. His wingman, none other than Riley Underdhal, taking me aside to ask if I’m okay. The snot-nosed butt face idiot says something, something racial slur something something racial slur something, which then prompts me to grab the beer bottle he’d just emptied and try to smash it over the guy’s head, because at this point, we’ve all be more than reasonable people, and he’s crossed a line. The snot-nosed butt face then takes a swing at me, and the whole situation escalates into a bit of a bar brawl. However, since the nice gentlemen who were trying to de-escalate the situation are also officers, Rosie very quietly let them and me slip out the back door before the cops show up, and we hid in the back of my ambulance until everything was sorted. In all of the excitement, Riley slipped me his number and asked me out on a date the following week by way of thank you for getting them out of a tight spot. After that, Sam Wilson and Riley and I started hanging out regularly, and the rest as they say is history.”

“What happened to Rosie?” Sara asked.

“We broke up a few weeks later.” Mags explained, “Well, she broke up with me.” She amended. “I don’t remember the reason now, but it was dumb, and, ultimately, I suppose for the best.”

“Wow,” Alecia said after a moment when the room had fallen back into contemplative silence. “So what you’re saying is that you were cool, once upon a time.”

Mags threw her head back and laughed, which caused the rest of the table to likewise burst into laughter. Even he managed a chuckle, watching as the rest of them laughed. When Mags finally regained her composure, she said, “Well, I’m not sure _cool_ is the right word, but I was certainly reckless and young, certainly.”

“Was?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “This coming from someone who let the Winter Soldier sleep in their barn and fought and was shot by the cartels not too long ago.”

“What?” Sara, Diego, Alecia, and Bianca all chorused.

“Thanks for that one, Barnes.” Mags stuck her tongue out. “How on earth am I going to get them to be good, honest, law-abiding citizens now?”

“Oh, you can’t _not_ tell us now, mom.” Diego objected.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll give you a bit of the abbreviated version, but then we’ll need to take care of clearing up the table and cleaning the kitchen.”

There was a round of grumbles, but everyone settled in as Mags gave an abbreviated retelling of both “The Winter Soldier in the barn” and “That time I got the Black Widow to train me in stealth, so I then used those skills to take on the cartels.” After fielding a number of questions with tact and delicacy on both accounts, with additional questions aimed at him, Mags then led the charge on clearing away the dishes and organizing the after-dinner kitchen clean up.

When they were done, Alecia announced that she needed to get off to work, and Bianca said she and Ava-Maria needed to get going so she could put the latter to bed. “But not before mom and Sara play for Ava-Maria.” She added.

There was a pause, as all eyes went to Mags a moment, who appeared to be in deep thought a second before nodding. “Oh. All right. Everyone go pile up on the couch. You have your guitar, Sara?”

“Of course.” Sara nodded.

“You’re in for a treat,” Bianca said to Bucky as they were swept into the living room, and he was wedged onto the couch between Bianca and Alecia, Diego, on the left arm of the couch with Ava-Maria on his lap.

Bucky's attention was then drawn to the sound of guitars being tuned, and he turned his head to see Mags and Sara both with acoustic guitars in hand, each of them plucking individual strings to get them to the correct note.

But Mags had told him that playing guitar was too painful to relearn. _Well, it has been almost ten years. She must’ve found a way._

“So. Ava-Maria. What song would you like for us to play?”

“Big Iron, then my song.” She said firmly.

“No. You only get—” Bianca began, but Mags waved her words away.

“It’s a special occasion. She can have two.” Mags said, turning to Sara. “Provided that’s okay with you.”

“I got nowhere to be.” She shrugged. “Count us off, mom.”

Mags did, and the sound of music filled the living room, and Bucky was sure the whole of the house. “To the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day,” The duo sang, harmonizing as they played.

Bucky’s eyes focused on Mags’s hands and how the right hand worked the frets while the left hand strummed, the opposite of what Sara was doing. Then it dawned on him, but of course, she’d learned to play backward.

She’d adapted and overcome, as she’d done with so many other things over the past five years, and he couldn’t help but feel sort of light-headed at the thought, _‘and she wants me along for the journey.’_

Bucky glanced around at her kids. None of them had so much as batted an eye at him and had given him as warm a welcome as he could’ve ever hoped for. It all felt like more than he deserved.

Soon the songs were over, and they worked to free themselves from the couch. “I gotta head off. It was good to see you, Bucky.” Alecia proclaimed, extending her hand to him. “Hope to see you around next week for Spaghetti night.”

“I hope so too.” He answered, shaking her hand. “Good luck out there tonight, be safe.”

“Always am.” She replied before giving Mags and her siblings a round of quick goodbye hugs before walking out the door.

“I’m afraid we have to get going too,” Bianca said. “Bucky, it was good to see you again as well.” She paused, glancing over at Mags. “You know, mom, now that he’s in this light, I can see the resemblance between him and Mr. Martinez-Proctor.”

 _Who?_ Bucky almost asked but stopped himself at the realization of who they were talking about. The question then became, _how would you know that?_ But before he could ask, Bianca wished him goodnight, and after another round of goodbye hugs, took Ava-Maria by the hand out the front door.

This left Sara and Diego. “Well, unless you guys need something, I think we’re going to head off too,” Diego said.

“I have homework, and so does Diego. I think he’s going to try to resurface our kitchen table tonight, too.” Sara supplied.

“Oh. That sounds like good fun. You guys let us know when you make it safe, okay?” Mags answered, going in for a hug for both of them.

“Yeah, mom, we’ll let you know,” Diego answered in the tones of one who didn’t want to be seeing being doted upon by their mother, even if they appreciated it as they stepped away from the hug.

“Bucky, good to see you. You two kids have fun.” Diego said wryly with a wave.

“Good to see you, Bucky. Hope to see you next week.” Sara said after a quick hug with Mags. “Have a good night.”

“You too!” Bucky called after them as they walked down the hall to the front door.

There was a click of the latch, the distant sound of an engine turning over and driving away, and then, there was nothing.

Well, that wasn’t quite true, there was a long exhale from Mags, and the house seemed to creak, and shift, and settle from the activities of the day. Then, with an exhausted smile, she looked up at him, “So. How was that?”

“I have A LOT of questions.” He replied.

“And I may have some answers, but first I’d like a glass of wine. Would you like one?”

“No, thank you, but I don’t mind if you do.”

“All right then, Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.” She replied, padding into the kitchen and returning a moment later with a bottle of wine and a glass. “The couch work for you?”

“The couch is fine.” Bucky nodded, and they both sat down on to the sofa. Then Mags poured herself a glass of wine before settling under his arm, which he draped across her shoulders.

“So, questions?” She asked, taking a sip from the glass.

“Your kids know my nephew?” He asked slowly.

“They _do._ I reached out shortly after coming back from Wakanda to let him know what had happened to you and to see how many of the clan had survived. It was…dismal, to say the least, but when I moved out here, I invited them to use the house and space for holidays, and when I adopted the kids, the Proctor Clan became like a second family,” Mags sighed, rubbing her forehead with the back of the hand not holding the wine glass. “I should reach out to them. It’s just been so hectic. Sorry that I didn’t mention something earlier.”

“You’ve been busy.” Bucky paused, unsure how he felt about Mags’s kids being close with his sister’s family, and by all rights, his family too. He wasn’t angry, wasn’t upset, but he was _sad._ Sad again to have missed the journey, missed the connection, missed the opportunity to watch something so beautiful as a family grow in his absence, not just once, but twice now, first with Becca, and now it seemed with Mags too. “So they know…about me? About us?” He stammered out after a moment.

Mags nodded, “in not so many words.” She glanced up at him. “That’s okay? Right?”

“Of course.”

“They’ll be happy to get to meet you finally. I know that Dani and the kids were glad to get to meet you too.” Mags added.

“They’re wonderful. It was a pleasure to get to meet them too. You really have built a beautiful home and family here, Mags.” Bucky said, leaning to put his head on top of hers.

“They are wonderful.” She paused, “And they could be your family too, you know, and this could be your home as well if you wanted.”

“You think they’d have me?” He chuckled softly.

“Without a doubt. If today is any indication.” Mags answered.

Bucky didn’t say anything, turning the events of the day over in his head. The thing Dani had said about home sticking in his brain. “Dani said home isn’t a place you never leave. It’s where you come back to, or something like that.”

“Is there a question in there?”

“Do you think it’s true?” _Can it be true?_ Is what he was really asking but wasn’t brave enough presently to vocalize it.

“Absolutely. That’s what I told the kids when I adopted them. And what I tell everyone who asks why I adopted older kids instead of infants. Just because they’ll only be in my house a few years doesn’t mean I can’t give them a home to come back to.” She took another sip from the glass. “All of this to say, Bucky, is you have a home here if you want it to be your home if you want _us_ to be your family.”

He paused, trying to find a snappy comeback, but came up empty-handed. He wanted to make a home here with Mags. He wanted to be apart of this family she’d created with Dani, Diego, Alecia, Sara, Bianca, and Ava-Maria, and the others. Yet, he knew that was the selfish part of him talking, because what could he possibly contribute to this family of theirs? Stability? Safety? About the only consistent contribution he had to offer would be absence, and he didn’t want to be absent from a family this tight-knit.

“Even if I can’t stay?”

“Especially if you can’t,” Mags replied.

“I just don’t want it to end like before.”

“Are we talking five years ago or nine?” She asked as gently as anyone in her position could manage.

“Either, but particularly the first time, with Hydra.” He said.

“It won’t end like that.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because next time you won’t leave me to fend for myself.” She answered. “Because next time, you’ll have a reason to come back and help me fight whatever threat it is I might be facing.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” Bucky reasoned, his eyes drifting to her left hand, the surgery scars, faded now by time. “Does your hand still hurt you?” He questioned slowly.

“Not as much anymore. It does get really achy when the weather changes, and I still can’t use my left hand to work the frets of a guitar, but I’ve figured out how to live with it, figured out how to manage.”

Bucky nodded, planting a kiss on the top of her head in her hair. “You’re very brave, Mags.”

“I’ve had little choice but to become so.” She answered, her voice distant.

They sat there a long minute as she drank her wine, nestled next to him.

 _You have a place here. You could belong here. You could belong to them._ His brain shouted over and over again. The whole day had shown him that he could make a home here with her, with all of them, and furthermore that he _wanted_ a home here with all of them.

So what was his next move?

 _Enjoy the moment while it lasts._ That was his gut instinct because he knew it wouldn’t last forever.

Eventually, Mags rose, draining her glass and grabbed the bottle, sitting on the coffee table, returning both to the kitchen. Returning, she climbed up on his lap, straddling him, burying her head in the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around him. He put his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, and she let out a long sigh, her hands moving to his neck and playing with the fine hairs that had escaped his ‘man bun,’ and that’s how they stayed for a long few minutes.

Then, without prompting, she sat up and looked at him, her hands, “I think I’m going to go upstairs and take a shower.” She kissed his forehead before climbing off him. She started toward the hallways and paused, glancing over her shoulder. “And I expect you to join me. After a long hard day, you’re stinky.”

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, following after her up the stairs and into the shower.

It _had_ been a long day, but it had been a good day. The first good day in a long time. He had a place here, and if he wanted a home, a family, all he had to do was reach out and take it for himself.

A home. A family.

Nine years ago, those words hadn’t even been in his vocabulary. Now, they were more than just a fever dream. They were a possibility. There were choices still be made, but he didn’t have to make them now, today, or (he hoped) any time soon. Right now, he could just be, with Mags as he was, as they both were, in their little corner of paradise, and that was more than he ever could’ve asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much of a pain as the last chapter was to write, this one was an absolute joy. I hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing it! Mags and her little family was so much fun to write. We have also surpassed a momentous Milestone, this chapter marks over 500,000 words for the series over all. Thank you so much to all of you for reading along. You’ve now read half a million words of mine! We are now two chapters from the end, and I am so very very excited as we draw closer to the finish. I hope you continue to enjoy, and continue to read along. Until next time, Happy Reading!


	11. Toward the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> Recommended Listening: Your Are My Sunshine by The Civil Wars; Stay With Me (Brass Bed) by Josh Gracin; You Belong to Me by Jo Stafford
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=Xe0nd6R7SP6dJV0g4uTPdA

It was morning, yet again, and light was streaming in through the large windows of the living room, casting a murky glow through the sheer curtains. They were downstairs making breakfast. The radio crackled out Tejano music at a low hum as the ground goat sausage popped and crackled on the stove in the pan. Coffee was percolating, and Bucky could hear the bubbling hissing noises as the water was heated in the coffee maker.

Bucky had spent time all over the farm and farmhouse, and he’d found there was no place quite like the kitchen and the kitchen table. It was truly the beating heart of the operation. It was where the family gathered, where he and Mags really started and ended their working days together, and above all, where food was served and consumed.

She’d done a lot of the cooking when they’d lived in Wakanda, and that had been somewhat hampered by their small fire and limited preparation space. Here, Mags was unhindered and using ingredients almost exclusively locally sourced, either from her garden or other nearby farms and ranches, she made almost all of their meals from scratch. The kitchen was fundamentally Mags. It was a place of family and food, a place of comfort and retreat from the comings and goings of the rest of the house. It was a place where she gathered her loved ones around her to care for them and asked about their days and lives. It was warm, cozy, and inviting, and the time spent within made it all the more difficult to even contemplate leaving again.

He’d enjoyed this part of the morning. The routine, the serenity, the gentle discussion over breakfast, talking about the day ahead, and talking about the years behind them. They’d talked about a lot of stuff, mostly he’d asked questions about Steve, and Natasha and the kids, and ranch, and Dani and all that the last five years had brought Mags and the world at large.

Mags had talked about her plans for the farm, talked about her plans for the future, which Bucky couldn’t help, but notice had held unspoken but present space for him to occupy if he so chose. And the more he listened, the more he wanted to insert himself into that space she was holding for him. The more he wanted to be that man, that person she was talking about. As it was, he’d become accustomed to the rhythm of day-to-day life on the farm and familiar with the ebb and flow of people coming in and out of the house.

Every day, more and more, he could imagine staying here, with her, and her kids, and the people of the One More Chance Farm, and Dani. He could imagine being the one-armed goat herder, helping to change the world in the millions of small ways Mags had managed over the past five years.

Yet, as much as he wanted to plant himself in and amongst such a quiet and peaceful life, something was gnawing at him from deep in the pit of his stomach, in the back of his mind. Something he was trying to ignore or convince himself he didn’t see.

Bucky knew what was going on just outside the property line. He could hear it in Mags’s phone calls and comments from the volunteers and children of One More Chance Farm. He could see it in the daily news reports, and the news articles, all of them grappling with what the Avengers had done, and the void left by Stark, Steve, Natasha, and the others who were either injured and out of commission or who had retired. 

It was chaos out there. The chaos of almost four billion people popping back into existence wreaking havoc upon the world: an unstable economy, housing crisis, food shortage, inadequate supply chains, thinning if non-existent social welfare benefits, rising crime and poverty rates, and tense international relations. There was work to be done. And the longer he stayed with Mags, and the more he contemplated his options, Bucky knew that he couldn’t do that work from here. Not in the same capacity, not to the same degree. So when the time came, when he was called to action, Bucky knew what his answer would be. He would leave Mags and the quiet, beautiful, prosperous life she’d built for herself here and go back out to the fight to do the work he needed to do.

Today, the Princess was going to return the prosthesis to him, and then, Bucky knew, it would be a matter of days before he was called to action. But that _wasn’t_ today. Today, for the most part, would be a relatively normal day, and thus far, it had been. The exchange would happen tonight, this evening after the dinner party Mags had helped arranged with the Princess.

That had been a whole thing.

He’d told Mags immediately after receiving the Princess’s text informing him that his prosthesis was ready. He’d then asked when would be a good time for the Princess to come for a fitting and diagnostics check-up before handing the prosthesis over to him for good. If Mags had been upset by the news, she hadn’t shown it, and had immediately proposed that the Princess come over on Saturday when things would be quieter, and had _also_ asked that Bucky send her regards to the King, Nakia, and if the Princess could pass along her good wishes to Teela, Jelani, and Omondi, she would be obliged.

This round of salutations had then, over the course of the last three days, spiraled into a plan for an impromptu reunion and dinner party including Princess Shuri, King T’Challa, Nakia, General Okoye, Omondi, Jelani, Teela, and Sissay, as well as Sam, his mother, and sisters. On top of the general everyday business of running the farm and after school program, the planning for the dinner party had left little time to contemplate the full impact of what the return of the arm meant to both him and to Mags. It had also given the day different energy than what would have otherwise occurred. Unfortunately, that also meant it hadn’t allowed him to tell Mags of his decision, nor given them any chance to plan for whatever future they might have together, however short that might be.

And Bucky found that of all the things to dread about the coming days, it wasn’t the arm that he dreaded, or the going back out there to resume his life in some capacity as the Winter Soldier. No. He’d always known he was going to do that. He’d always known that there would be a drive to return and work to undo what he had done for seventy years. It was part of the truth he’d been trying to ignore since Steve had told him that he’d planned to go back to the 1940s. Bucky had stayed because he had work to do, and that work would involve being the Winter Soldier, if just in name.

He would go back out there, not for Steve, not for the Avengers, but for himself, knowing that it was what he needed to do, for himself, to find peace. Yet. It wasn’t that simple. As much as he knew that he wanted and needed to go back out into the field, Bucky also knew that he _wanted_ to stay here, with Mags, and fill that space that she was holding for him.

So for all the trials and tribulations of _being_ the Winter Soldier again, Bucky found the idea of leaving and knowing that it meant leaving Mags behind again the part he dreaded the most. For all that he was, all that he knew that he had to do, Bucky loved this woman. He loved her, and he wanted to protect her, and he certainly didn’t want to _hurt_ her, not after all that she’d endured because of him.

Whatever happened next, today and into the future, Bucky knew they would both be okay. They were strong enough to survive this, strong enough to work through this. Yet, Bucky also knew it wasn’t just about strength.

This was the woman who’d survived an apocalypse and had done everything in her power to make the best of it. If there was anyone who would survive this and all of its uncertainty, it would be her. Yet, this wasn’t just about _survival,_ his, hers, or anyone else’s _._ This was the reminder that Bill, Mike, Dani, and her kids had given him: he was important to Mags and that no matter what he did next, she’d want to keep him in her life. What was worse was that Bucky knew that by choosing to go back out there again, he wouldn’t be able to be in her life, not in any real, meaningful way, and for her, it would be like losing him all over again. That was, of course, unless they figured out some middle road. How that would work, exactly, and what role he could possibly play in her life, when his physical presence would likely be minimal for the foreseeable future, he didn’t know yet. He couldn’t know, not until he talked to her about it, and at present, he was just trying to get through the day.

“How are you feeling about today?” Mags asked, her voice drawing him out from his thoughts. And it was only then that he’d realized how far down the rabbit hole he’d been.

He blinked, shaking his head, his mind zeroing in on how she’d asked the question. There wasn’t anything particularly foreboding or heavy in her tone as she spoke. It was light, casual, while also being invested in what he was going to say. She used the same tone of voice when asking her kids how their day had been during spaghetti night. How heavily was the day, and all of its various happenings, weighing on her? Had she given much, if any thought, to what today might mean? Or, had she been just as occupied mentally with the day to day running of the farm and after school program as they’d both been physically?

“All right.” Bucky shrugged as casually as he could manage before moving behind her to make two mugs of coffee as the coffee maker finished its work. “It will be good to see everyone.”

“It will be.” She said with a nod, her eyes focused down on her work. “I was able to keep up with Teela. I did tell you that, right?”

“You did,” Bucky answered, moving to her left to place a coffee mug at her elbow.

“Did I tell you Sisay took over Jelani’s role after he was...blipped… that’s what they’re calling it, right?”

“Yeah. Blipped is the word the world has apparently decided to go with. And no. How’d he do? Sisay, I mean.”

“He did very well for himself and the village. Though now that Jelani is back, I think he is going to retire, or at least that’s what Teela said when she emailed me last night.” She explained, “According to her, the whole blip has played havoc on all sorts of traditional tribal inheritance and law. There’s a lot to figure out, which is why I’m _really_ surprised the King and Princess agreed to both come to dinner. But it will be good to see everyone. And then we can go back to figuring out this strange new world we live in.” Mags paused to take a sip from the mug Bucky had supplied her with. “We figured out what to do when half of everyone disappeared. We’ll figure out what to do now that everyone is back.” She sighed, setting the mug back down and returning to her work.

There was a weariness in her voice there. Bucky couldn’t help but notice. An exhaustion, a knowing, of how much work had gone into the last five years, and how much _more_ work there was to do now that so many more people existed all of a sudden. And it dawned on Bucky that he’d never asked her how she’d figured out what she was going to do after the Battle of Wakanda. It had just seemed so natural that she would return here. This was, after all, her home. Where else might she have gone? Was it important? Perhaps. Yes. It would help him understand what she’d been through, what she was still going through, and inform how he should proceed when it ultimately came time for him to tell her what _his_ plans were for the future.

“How’d you do it?”

“Do what?” She countered, glancing up and over at him as she scraped the goat sausage from the pan to a waiting plate.

“Figure out what you were going to do after half the population disappeared. After Sam and I disappeared.”

“Well,” She began slowly, taking another sip from the coffee mug, contemplating its contents a moment. “I knew I couldn’t stay at the compound, and I wanted to help rebuild the world.”

“As easy as that?” 

“I wouldn’t say I’ve ever taken an _easy_ route. But I started plotting my plan a few weeks after things went to shit and tried to figure out how to move forward.” Mags said, setting aside the mug. She cracked four eggs into the pan she’d used for the goat sausage. And for a moment, there was only the smell and sizzle of cooking eggs and the scrape of the spatula against the pan as she scrambled them.

 _Figure out how to move forward._ The words stuck in his brain a minute, and he paused a moment to puzzle through _why_ that word choice felt so deliberate, important, _vital_ even to the entirety of the situation at present. “And forward was to the Ranch?”

“For me, it was. Forward looks different for everyone. We all take different paths,” She replied.

_Forward looks different for everyone._

Just perhaps, in the same way, that finding peace had looked so different for him and Steve. Steve had gone to the past, to escape being Captain America, to find his peace. Instead, Bucky had stayed in the present, determined to look to the future, not the past, to find a way to his peace. By deciding to stay here, Bucky had chosen to move _forward,_ not backward. Okay. Yes. Sure. That was a given. But what _meaning_ would that choice have when he went back out there? How was this decision to keep being the Winter Soldier and going back out to the fight any different than Steve being unable to retire? Or Natasha and Steve refusing to move on after the Battle of Wakanda?

“And what were Steve’s and Natasha’s paths forward?”

Mags sighed, setting aside the pan for the eggs and moving on to the refried beans. “I think.” She began shortly before stopping, taking a sip of her coffee. What Bucky could see of her profile, her expression was pinched, pained even.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly, lowering his head to take a sip from his mug, allowing the smell wafting from the top of his cup to occupy him a moment in the silence that was building in the kitchen.

“I think it will always be one of my biggest regrets. Not being able to talk them into moving out here with me.” Mags continued after a long moment, followed by a clink of her mug back onto the tile counter and the sound of beans being mashed in the pan. “And I understand.” She charged forward. “I understand why they didn’t want to give up on bringing you guys back. And I understand that the only reason you and I are standing here talking to one another about this is because of them and their choices.”

“But?” Bucky fished expectantly, knowing that whatever came next, he needed to hear it, and Mags needed to say it.

“I lived with Riley’s death and Sam’s disappearance from my life for two years on my own, and then a further two years in a self-imposed purgatory-like existence,” She said slowly, choosing her words carefully, her voice even and measured. “It took being _stuck_ in Wakanda with you for two years to realize that in my grief, and in my inability to move forward, emotionally and psychologically, I had stagnated and had started to rot.” Mags stopped and turned to face him. “So when I say you _saved_ me, James Barnes. I mean that in every possible way, you helped me to realize a better version of myself and helped me move forward when all of my instincts told me to stop and shelter in place.” She stopped clearing her throat and shaking her head before proceeding to the fridge.

Removing a ziplock bag of tortillas, she returned to the stove, where she placed the first one on the comal. Then, as she stirred the refried beans, Mags continued, “I wanted to help them, wanted to _save_ them from that same stagnation, that same rot, that same inability to move forward that I had suffered with and had only just started fighting back against. But ultimately, I couldn’t help them.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Mags,” Bucky said gently.

“I know.” She nodded. “But it still hurts.”

“I understand.”

“I know you do, Bucky,” Mags said, glancing back at him, her expression searching his, trying to make out the meaning behind his questions. “Can I ask you to promise me something, James Barnes?” She asked slowly, returning her gaze to the stove as where she was absently flipping tortillas over on the comal.

“Anything, Mags.”

“Whatever happens next, promise me you’ll keep pressing forward, that you won’t let yourself stagnate and rot.”

“I promise.” He answered. After everything she’d done for him, all of the chances, help, love, and support, it was such a small thing to promise, especially when she’d given him no conditions, no ultimatums, no terms. Simply keep pressing forward.

“Thank you.” She replied softly. “That’s all I could ask for, and all I could ever hope for you and the future.”

Did she know that he’d made up his mind what he was going to do next? Bucky couldn’t help but wonder.

“Well, I think we’re about done here.” She announced, breaking the silence.

“What?” He stammered.

“With breakfast.” Mags clarified with a small chuckle, turning around to face him again. She paused as she saw his expression. “Hey.” She soothed, “Whatever happens next, we’re going to figure it out together.”

“Together.” He echoed.

“Together,” She smiled gently. “Now,” Mags motioned to the stove vaguely, “Help me move the food to the table so we can get going with breakfast?”

“Absolutely,” He nodded, collecting the eggs and goat sausage she’d piled onto one plate, balancing his coffee cup on the edge before moving to the table where he’d set out plates for them.

Mags followed behind him with the tortillas, refried beans, and her cup of coffee.

Setting down their dishes, they arranged the plates and serving utensils before sinking down across from one another. Wordlessly they set about the task of making breakfast burritos (or would be more akin to tacos in his particular case).

He worked on assembling his breakfast, his head down, deep in thought. He should tell her. Bucky _knew_ he should tell her that he planned on going back out there. Yet, he wasn’t sure that he could or even that he _should_ tell her right now. Would she think that he was moving forward if he did that? Would she be angry at him, the way she was angry at Steve and Nat? Would it hurt her to know that he planned on resuming his life as the Winter Soldier?

Bucky didn’t know. “Hey, Mags?” He began slowly, as he looked up at her, his voice drawing her gaze.

“What is it, Bucky?” She asked, as his eyes locked with his.

“I love you.”

Mags smiled with a chuckle, easing the tension that had been growing in the silence. “I love you too, James Barnes.” She rose and leaned across the table, kissing his forehead. “We’re going to be okay.” She murmured after she’d planted the kiss.

“I appreciate it, Mags. Thank you, as always, for everything you do for me,” Bucky replied, exhaling a long and strangled sigh, trying to release some of the anxious energy knotted in his chest.

“Always,” Mags answered as she drew away and settled back down in her seat. “It’ll be interesting to see how today goes.”

“And what about after that?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Well. I never plan that far ahead. It takes a lot of brain space to get through today, never mind trying to think long term.” She answered with a mischievous smile. “Besides, I think getting through the day is a valiant and noble goal.”

“Fair.”

“And it was okay that we turned it into a party, right?” Mags continued building breakfast burritos.

“Yeah. It will be good to see everyone. And Sam is coming too?”

“Yeah. He confirmed with me this morning. His mom is going to show up and do a little bit of cooking too.” At this, she looked up at him with a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye, and lowering her voice, she continued. “She’s going to show me her beignet recipe.”

“Family secret?”

“Mmhh hmmm” Mags nodded with a satisfied grin before rising. “I forgot the salsa. Would you like a top off on your coffee before I sit back?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

She hummed to herself as she wove through the kitchen, collecting the salsa and shredded cheese from the fridge, grabbing the coffee pot to top off her mug.

Bucky could watch this forever. Stay in this moment forever. He wanted to, but what price was he willing to pay to enable that to happen? _Keep moving forward._ “So what’s on the docket today? Other than the prosthesis appointment and dinner party?”

“Well, as it is Saturday, it’ll just be us for most of the day. Some volunteers will be in and out, but no large groups.”

“What about Dani and the kids? They get back to you about tonight?”

“Unfortunately, they couldn’t make it this evening,” She answered. “But they send their regards. And demand ample stories from you and Sam.”

Bucky chuckled with a nod. “I’ll see what I can do.” He said before biting into his burrito.

“I’m sure you will.” Mags chuckled.

They dove into breakfast, devouring the burritos and digesting the to-do list for the day.

With their individual tasks assigned and breakfast consumed, and the dishes cleared away, he and Mags headed down to the barn to begin the day.

The day's chores were all routine, feed the animals, get them to pasture, and clean stalls, but not before milking the cows and goats. Mags would then collect eggs and take them to the house to put them in the secondary fridge for processing later that afternoon. Afterward, there was also some minor repair and maintenance work before lunch. In the afternoon, since she didn’t have the afterschool program, Mags tended to the garden and looked after the seedlings growing in the greenhouse. 

Bucky’s primary responsibility for the day was mucking out stalls, removing all the old straw and hay, and then spreading new hay. It wasn’t difficult work, though it was time-consuming, and it let him think, and today he needed that time, needed the space to draw out the twisted and tangled web of thoughts and feelings his mind had spun.

Was going back out into the field moving forward? Would returning to that life provide growth and offer a path to the peace he was searching for? Or was he simply returning back out there because it was what he had done for the last seventy years and now didn’t know what else to do with himself?

Would going back out into the field help him move forward? Would it prove that he wasn’t _just_ the Winter Soldier? Was it possible to do the work Hydra had trained him for but be more than just what they’d made him?

These questions and more occupied his thoughts, filling the day and his brain as he worked. The afternoon came and went, and after they penned the animals for the evening, Mags went up to the house to freshen up before dinner while he set out feed for the animal’s evening meals.

Standing in the quiet of the barn, or rather mostly quiet of the barn as the animals ate around him contentedly, Bucky thought again back to the day that he’d fled the ranch in terror. Wondering for just a moment what his next departure from this place would look like.

He wouldn’t be fleeing this time. He wouldn’t be leaving frightened, hunted, and alone. But Bucky knew there was still uncertainty as to what his next move would bring and what meaning he would attribute to his departure.

 _I need to tell Mags._ That thought had been repeating almost nonstop since breakfast. Bucky knew that he _did_ need to tell her, but he just hadn’t been able to find the right time, the right moment. It would bake a fair bit to unpack, Bucky knew, and he wanted them to be able to have that chance. Over breakfast or between tasks just hadn’t seemed like the time or place to have that type of discussion.

Finishing up, he closed up the barn for the night and returned back to the house, marching upstairs to get ready for the evening.

He walked into the bedroom to find Mags wrapped in a towel pulling clothes from the closet and dresser.

“Everything good?” She asked casually without glancing over to look at him.

She dropped the towel and started to dress, and he took a moment to watch before answering. “Everyone’s settled.”

“That’s good. I pulled out some clothes for you.” She continued. “And, of course, the shower’s open if you wanna clean up.” Mags paused, turning to face him squarely for the first time. She hesitated as her eyes scanned him, a soft furrow in her brow. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, taking her in a moment. She was wearing her River Tribe halter jumper, her hair was down and still wet from the shower, and it had a slight wave. Her feet were bare still, and he could see that her toenails were painted pink. She looked completely at ease, at home within herself, even with the edge of concern growing on her expression.

“Anxious?”

“Some,” Bucky admitted.

“Anything I can do?”

“Well.” He began speculatively. “It's not too late to pack a bag, take Steve's bike, and go.” As Bucky said it, he could tell Mags wasn't sure if he was being serious or not. So he cracked a smile, “One-armed or not, I'd have a fighting chance if we went together.”

"The Mysterious Mariachi and the One-Armed Bandit?" She raised an eyebrow, cracking a small smile of her own.

“Something like that.”

“Sounds like a bad Antonio Banderas movie." Her smile broadened.

“Well, I did want to be Zorro when I was a kid."

“Unfortunately, Bucky Barnes, I don't know that I'd be a good damsel in distress."

"For what it's worth, I don't think I'd make a good damsel in distress either.” He delivered it without an ounce of humor, and then just as fast as the smile had spread over her face, it disappeared again.

Taking a couple of large steps toward him, Mags closed the gap between them, standing squarely in front of him. "Whatever you need, James. I'm here for you."

His stomach clenched at the earnest way she said his name. He hadn't quite figured out how and why she used his first name, but when she did, there was always weight to it that wasn't there when she used 'Bucky.'

“Thank you, Magdalene.” He nodded.

"I love you, James Barnes."

"I love you too, Magdalene Ramirez."

 _You should tell her now. You need to tell her._ His conscience nagged in the back of his mind. But he knew he couldn't, not right now. There wasn't enough time. They were between five different things. They would need time to talk, _really_ talk, and there wasn't long until the Wilsons and Wakandan delegation would be here.

Mags rose on the balls of her feet and kissed him on the cheek. Then, as she rocked back, planting her heels on the floor, she wrinkled her nose. "You should shower. You stink. I'll be downstairs." She smiled.

"Thanks for that, doll."

"No problem," She chuckled. "I'll see you in a few."

"See you in a few." He echoed, watching as Mags bounced around the room, collecting a few things before she walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. "I'm going back out into the field," Bucky said to the empty room, letting his words fill up the space.

 _Fuck._ Why was this so hard?

 _Because you love her and don't want to hurt her, c_ ame the immediate response. And Bucky knew it would only hurt her more the longer he put off telling her.

Surely she knew? Right? They'd talked about this back in Wakanda, that he would at some point return to the front, and their perfect moment would end. He hadn't given her false hope by sticking around over the last week and a half, had he?

Bucky washed, dressed, and continued to puzzle through the situation, his body working on autopilot. He came downstairs to the sound of laughter and voices from the kitchen, where he found Mags, and Sam, and three women Bucky assumed were Sam's mother and two sisters all huddled around the stove watching as the eldest woman worked.

"You should feel honored, Mags. She doesn't give this recipe out to just anyone." Sam said in a knowing tone.

There was a broad smile on his face as Sam watched the demonstration Mrs. Wilson was giving over Mags's shoulder. Sam paused, and he glanced over, meeting Bucky's watchful gaze. "You going to get on this, Barnes, or are you just going to stand there?" Sam asked, with a mischievous smirk.

At this, all eyes turned to him. The eldest of the three Black women surveyed him a moment with a skeptical eye before she turned to Sam, "This the man you were talking about?"

Bucky shifted uncertainly, watching as Sam nodded, prompting her to turn back and nod approvingly. "Darlene Wilson, Sam's mother. He's told me a lot about you." She said, taking a couple of steps toward him, extended a hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wilson." Bucky managed, closing the gap and taking her hand to shake it.

She shook his hand firmly. Then rather than letting go, she led him over to the stovetop where the others were gathered. "These are my daughters, Sarah and Genevieve."

"Ginnie." Genevieve amended as Bucky looked to both the younger women, who nodded as their mother introduced them.

"Pleasure to meet you both."

"Now. Beignets." Mrs. Wilson said firmly.

Bucky glanced between Mags and Sam, hoping for some kind of out, but instead was met with placid expressions of feinted innocence.

Wordlessly, he allowed himself to be positioned in front of the counter beside Mags by Mrs. Wilson and then listened as she explained the process. The dough had already been mixed and properly chilled in advance, and now they were going to roll and portion it out for beignets.

There was laughter and conversation between Sam and his sisters as they waited for the oil to heat up, while Mrs. Wilson watched him and Mags work on the beignets.

"How we doin,' James Barnes?" Mags asked out of the corner of her mouth.

"Can't complain." He paused. "What's on the menu for tonight?"

"The Princess said her brother was going to take care of it."

"Oh?"

"Don't ask me what that means. I haven't the foggiest." As she said it, the dogs bellowed outside, and Mags glanced over at Sam. "Can you get the door? I'm covered in flour." 

"Yes, ma'am." He answered with a mock salute before retreating down the hall where there was a loud knock at the front door.

"You ready for this?" Mags asked under her breath, setting down the rolling pin she was using, put her left hand on his right.

"I still think we could make it to the bike if we moved quick." He said with a low chuckle. Turning his head slightly, he made eye contact with her, holding her dark gaze. And there they were outside of the Royal labs, knowing what came next. Yet, instead of dread or fear, and any type of uncertainty in her expression, there was a firm and steadfastness to her expression, where the desire to flee had once occupied. A tension he'd been holding in his chest ease slightly as he took in her expression. They were going to be okay. Weren't they.

"Together?" he ventured hesitantly.

"Together." She nodded, cracking a small smile.

There was a burst of voices as Sam answered the front door, and they looked to the hallway as The Wakandan delegation marched from the front door into Mags's kitchen holding boxes of pizza, take out bags, and other containers for food. "Heyi! Cowgirl, where do you want us to put these?" Jelani asked, carrying a stack of pizza boxes.

"The table is fine. But why on earth—"

"When in Rome, Cowgirl." Omondi cut her off as he and Sisay emerged, holding several trays of shakes in to-go cups. Nakia and Teela came in behind them with paper bags from Shake Shack and entered the kitchen area, setting them down on the table.

"Please tell me you didn't bring Taco Bell into my house." Mags stammered.

"We wouldn't do you the disrespect." The Princess said, announcing her presence as she surreptitiously set the familiar metal case down out of the way in the living room before joining the group.

Sam, The King, and the General entered the kitchen last, and Mags wiped her hands off before rounding the kitchen island to greet and embrace the newcomers, as Sam introduced his family to the Wakandan Royal family, and Mags introduced the Wilsons to their Wakandan sponsors.

"Heyi, White Wolf! How have you been?" Omondi called to him, coming out of the group to greet him.

"Elder Omondi." Bucky nodded.

"Bah. This again?" Omondi waved away the greeting. "Good to see you again." He said, pulling Bucky into an embrace.

Bucky returned the embrace, particularly aware of how fragile the old man seemed. Had he been blipped? Bucky didn't recall the Princess or Mags saying anything one way or another, but it _was_ good to see the man again. "And it's good to see you too, my friend," Bucky replied as they pulled away. "How have you been keeping?" He asked, trying to imply without outright asking if he’d been here for the duration or if he’d just got back.

"Busy," Omondi answered opaquely.

"I never did get a chance to say thank you." Bucky continued slowly. "For sponsoring me. Taking me in, giving me purpose while I was recovering."

"You were a man, lost and wandering, when you first came to my village." Omondi paused, glancing around. A small smile curled at the corner of his mouth as his gaze focused only a moment on Mags, who was at the center of the commotion, helping unpack the food and spread it out on the table as plates and cups were removed from the cupboard and placed out.

"We have a bit to take care of with dessert, but you are all welcome to start eating." She commented. "And if there is some interest, I have some wine, but I'm not entirely sure what would pair best with shake shack burgers and fries and a good ole pepperoni pizza."

Nakia offered her suggestions, as Mrs. Wilson took over frying the beignets Mags, Tee, and Nakia watching closely, asking the Wilson matriarch polite questions. The Princess and Sisay talked with Sarah and Jennie, while The King, Sam, Jelani, and the General all conversed in a corner nearest the table. The King and general both politely sipping on Starbucks Frappuccinos.

And he and Omondi stood back, watching the whole scene unfold, the strange combination of characters once again filling the kitchen as if it was the most natural thing in the world. What an odd life he had lived, and an even stranger existence he'd shared with Mags in Wakanda, and now here with her.

 _But it can't last._ He reminded himself. It was such a cruel trick for his mind to play on him. Watching the life and the joy and the happiness that the collision of worlds was bringing to everyone present to only remind himself that it was fleeting and temporary.

He caught Mags's gaze as she glanced over her shoulder at him. She cracked a smile, and he returned it with a smile of his own.

"But it looks like you found a friend and purpose at last," Omondi continued as Mags looked away and returned her attention to the beignet demonstration.

Bucky cleared his throat, glancing over at the old man who watched with a calculating expression. "It can't last forever. Not when I go back out to being me." He said in a voice so low he wasn't sure Omondi had heard what he'd said.

"Nothing ever does," He answered after a moment. "Do you love her?"

"Yes." Bucky nodded.

"And it is clear she loves you."

"Yes."

"Then, you fight. To hold onto that which is most dear to you." Omondi said, slapping him companionably on the back, walking over to where Jelani was standing before Bucky could stammer out. _It's more complicated than that._

But was it? Bucky hadn't even told Mags about his plans to go back out into the field. How could he possibly know if she wants him to stay in her life with all the risks that came with that life?

Only after they talked could they plan, and that just hadn't been in the cards for them, yet.

After a moment, he was ushered over to the table and sat down between Mags and the Princess, and food was passed around as conversation swelled around him like a tidal way. The King and Mrs. Wilson dominated the main conversation, while smaller conversations happened around the table.

Bucky took it all in, thinking about the lunch with the Royal family he and Mags had attended at the festival their first year in Wakanda and how familiar now they all were with one another. There were some new faces around the table, but it all felt familiar, rejoicing in the reunion after so long apart. They'd made it through dinner and had eaten Mrs. Wilson's beignets, and the rest of the table was working on glasses of brandy when the Princess nudged him and motioned for him to follow her.

Wordlessly, they both rose and slipped from the kitchen out into the living room where the Princess picked up the prosthesis case and glanced around. Bucky nodded and motioned for her to follow him up the stairs. They ducked into the room Mags had set aside for him, that he hadn't used much in the past two weeks, and the Princess placed the case on the dresser before she turned to him. "So, how have you been? Anything new to report?"

"Nothing new to report. We've been good here. I've been good." He answered, tension balling in a tight knot in his chest.

"That's good. I've made some modifications to your arm. I'd like to do some scans both of your brain and the arm before I send you out into the wild with them." She explained, stepping back away from the case so he could approach.

"Before we do, _Shuri_." Bucky began, and the Princess turned to him squarely and looked at him, her expression neutral, but a sort of delight danced in her eyes. Bucky charged on, "I'd just like to say thank you for everything you and your brother and your country did for me. You didn't have to. And you've gone well above and beyond anything I could've ever hoped to deserve."

"It has been a pleasure, an honor, and a challenge working with you," She answered with a gracious nod. "I am glad to have played a part in helping you, Bucky."

Then there was nothing for it. Bucky turned to the case, and disengaging the locks with a click, he pushed the top open, and there it was, just as he'd known it would be.

He paused as the laughter of the ongoing dinner party filtered up through the open door and the floorboards, and a strange feeling came over him. It wasn't dread or anger. It wasn't fear. He wasn't taking up the arm and the mantle again because he was being asked. This was a choice. It was his choice, and he knew that he was doing this not because there was some worldwide disaster threatening the apocalypse. Instead, he was choosing to take up this role, this purpose to protect those he loved. For all the people who gathered around Mags's table: right now, on spaghetti night, and during the after school programs. He was doing this for the love of them. Would Mags see it that way? That was a conversation they would have to have, sooner now that the arm was here, but it was also a way forward. And that's what she'd made him promise: not to stagnate, not to stand to still, but to proceed forward, bravely to whatever came next.

Bucky took a deep breath, pulling off his scarf and setting it down beside the case. It was time to get to work.

-

The after-dinner drinks and conversation were in full swing when Maggie saw the Princess and Bucky slip away.

She knew what they were doing, of course. It was the purpose of the visit. Still, it left a knot in her chest even as she desperately tried to focus on the anecdote she was telling the Wakandans, Sam, Darlene, Sarah, and Ginnie. It was about when the farm had first gotten goats, and one, Stevie Kicks, they'd called her, had taken it into her goat-mind to head butt everyone. They'd ended up putting pool noodles on her horns to keep her from causing any serious harm until they could break the habit. So for a few weeks, there had been a pool-noodled goat terrorizing everyone.

Fortunately, Maggie had told this particular anecdote before and delivered the punchline without much need to engage her brain.

The table laughed, Omondi and Jelani started ribbing one another, and there was a round of comments from everyone present. Maggie grinned and beamed. It was nice to have everyone over for dinner letting two aspects of her life merge into one, if only for a brief moment. She and Teela had kept up during the past five years. Their communication had been sparse, an email or two back and forth once and twice a year, which put Maggie in mind of the yearly update letters her older relatives had sent out with Christmas cards once upon a time. Much of their communication had focused on business, survival, with assurances that they were doing well and working to find joy in their new and developing situations.

Having her, Sissay, Jelani, and Omondi all in the same room, after such a long separation, in the combined company of Nakia, Princess Shuri, General Okoye, and King T'Challa, Sam and his family it was almost too much to take in. But Maggie loved it. 

Yet, glad as she was for the opportunity, it was shaded in the knowledge of what was happening only a few rooms away.

Maybe she was being a touch dramatic about what Bucky having the arm back from the Princess meant. After all, it was just an object, a tool, better living through technology. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Maggie also knew that the arm wasn't _why_ she'd spent most of the day fighting off the feeling of impending dread. It was everything the arm represented, the purpose the prosthesis gave Bucky. It was the choice Bucky would soon be forced to make about how he would find peace. It was a choice he had been able to postpone for a little bit because of the maintenance the Princess was doing, which had enabled them a glimpse at what _could_ be.

The past week and a half had been nothing short of a dream. It _had_ been something that she'd dreamed of on occasion over the last five years. The very thought of being able to share everything she'd built here with Bucky, being able to show him what he'd helped her create, that had been her biggest wish during the blip. And she'd been able to fulfill that, and he'd stayed here with her, working and living and loving alongside her for the past week and a half in a way she'd never thought would be possible. 

But, just as with all dreams, this one would come to an end, and reality would set in with all its harsh realities. With the return of Bucky's prosthesis and his ability to go back on active duty, tonight was the beginning of reality's onset.

No. They'd been living with reality, living with the fragile brevity of their situation. Now, she had to stand by and watch Bucky struggle to figure out what he wanted and what choices he thought he should make for the future.

 _Better living through technology._ That was all that the prosthesis was, all that it meant. Yet, she had dreaded its return. Not because she didn't want him to go. She knew no force in the world could keep Bucky from somewhere he knew he needed to be. Perhaps what she feared, what she was dreading, was the thought that if he left, he might never come back.

Not in the dying way, of course. There was always that possibility any time someone walked out the door. No. What she feared was that he would leave and then choose _not_ to come back. That he would choose to divorce himself from her life, her family, and her world entirely, permanently.

It was something that she'd realized over the last week and a half. It had been far easier to lose Sam and Bucky to the blip than it had been watching Steve and Nat chose not to join her on the farm.

Then again, his presence would be complicated, difficult even, should he choose to stay in her life while also pursuing the life of a superhero. After all, it wasn't just her anymore that she had to worry about. She had responsibilities and people who depended upon her. Yet, she wasn't about to allow him just slip away into the unknown. She'd lost him for five years. She wasn't going to lose him again. Not if she could help it.

Bucky and the Princess slipped back into the dining room, easing themselves into the conversation, Bucky sat down beside her, and Maggie shot her hand under the table for him to take, which he did, squeezing it three times.

She couldn't feel any sort of tension in his frame or any sort of tremor in his grasp. _He's okay._ However, Maggie wasn't sure if he would've given her any sort of indication if he _wasn't._ Regardless, she took comfort in his touch and allowed herself to relax a moment and enjoy the assembled company.

"Can I get anyone anything else to drink or eat? I know we have a few beignets left, and I can make another pot of coffee." Maggie said, realizing that she was the hostess and that everyone's plates and glasses were empty.

"As tempting as that is, Magdalene. I am afraid we must get going." The King answered.

"Yeah. Us too." Sam chimed in.

"We have an early flight in the morning," Sarah explained quickly. 

"And we have a long flight back as well," Nakia added.

"Oh. All right." Maggie stammered, doing her best not to sound disappointed.

"But first, we will help you clean up." The Princess proclaimed.

"No. No. That won't be—"

"Nonsense Cowgirl," Jelani waved away her words.

Everyone rose, collecting their dishes, and proceeded into the kitchen, cleaning and putting away their plates, utensils, cups, and serving utensils. Everyone did their part, including King T'Challa and Princess Shuri. _What did chores look like when they were at home? Or as children?_ Maggie couldn't help but wonder as she was muscled out of the way by the Wakandans, Wilsons, and Bucky alike.

She stood back watching the activity, struck by how strange all of this would've been to her nine years ago. Sam and his family nestled into her kitchen, along with royalty, a spy, a general, a goat herder, a horse breeder and his family, and a one-armed assassin. Of course, now, they were just her friends, and there was nothing strange or out of the ordinary about _that,_ yet she still delighted in the thought of who they were and what they would've been like ten years before.

In another nine, maybe ten years, who knew where they'd be or what they'd be doing, but _tonight_ she had the absolute pleasure of watching the King of Wakanda wash and dry his dinner dishes and put them away in her cupboards.

Then, when the business of tidying came to an end, they all trailed to the door in quiet admission that it was now time to end their evening and return to their separate lives. Standing off to one side of the door, she and Bucky said goodbye to each person in turn. First, of course, was King T'Challa.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Magdalene." He said, nodding graciously.

"No. Thank you, your highness, for everything you did for him and for me." Maggie glanced sideways at Bucky, who was talking with Nakia and the Princess. "You and your family are welcome any time."

"We shall have to visit again." He agreed. "Have a good evening. Take care of yourself."

"Thank you, you too." Maggie nodded, nodding politely to Okoye, who shadowed the King.

Then came Nakia, who shook her hand and thanked her for dinner. "Try not to get into any trouble." She said with a smile.

"I will do my best."

"Make sure to keep the White Boy out of trouble, too." The Princess cut in.

Maggie laughed. "I can make no promises, but I will remind him not to do anything that will jeopardize your hard work."

"You are a good person, Magdalene, to want to help so many," The Princess said. "I hope we will have a chance to see one another again soon."

"I hope so too."

"Good night." They both waved before walking out the front door.

"Thank you for having us tonight," Teela said, immersing her in a hug. "It was so good to see you again.

"It was good to see you too, Tee." Maggie sighed into the woman's embrace.

"After so much sorrow and heartache, it is good to see you smile again." Tee continued as they pulled apart. "And that you have brought so much laughter and joy to the world around you."

"I am glad to share that joy with you," Maggie answered, glancing over at Jelani, who had walked up beside his wife.

"Good to see you again, Cowgirl. I would like to come back to see this farm of yours when there is more time." Jelani said.

"We may have some suggestions to help you," Omondi added.

"I would be happy for your suggestions and your help. I would also love to introduce you to Bill, Mike, Mitchell, and Suzanne, who have been integral to getting this farm off the ground. You would get along." Maggie smiled.

"We shall make it happen then," Jelani said, and they smiled, shaking her hand and embracing her before they were swept out the door with a round of good nights and goodbyes.

"Maggie, it was wonderful to get to meet you in person finally." Darlene Wilson announced.

"It was a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs. Wilson," Maggie answered demurely.

"None of that." Darlene brushed her off, pulling her into a strong embrace. "Thank you for everything and for helping bring Sammie back to us."

"I—uhhh—" She stammered a moment, eventually relenting to the embrace and melting into it. "Thank you for sharing your son with me and with the world," Maggie replied.

After a moment, they pulled apart, and Darlene surveyed her closely. "You're welcome any time you're down our way."

"And you're welcome here anytime you need to get away a bit. There's always a spare bedroom for you." Maggie said.

She wished Sara and Ginnie safe travels and thanked them for coming before Sam swooped in for a hug. "Thank you for organizing this Mags." He murmured.

"Always, Sammie. Always." She breathed.

"I'll be back in the morning after I drop them off." Sam continued as they separated from their embrace. "So you two crazy kids better not trash the place before I get here." He glanced between her and Bucky. "You have a good night."

"You too." She answered.

"I'll text you when we make it safe." He added.

"Was just about to ask." Maggie chuckled.

"Be good."

"We'll do our best."

And just like that, they were gone. The house was empty, except for her and Bucky, and the walls and floors seemed to creak as they settled, cooling after the commotion of the day.

Glancing over at Bucky, she chuckled. Both their chests were heaving as they tried to catch their breath after the wave of activity and the crush of people. The silence rang in her ears, and she looked him up and down with the same uncertainty he was surveying her with.

"You alright?" He asked, with the slightest edge of a laugh in his voice.

"Yeah. You?" Maggie paused, watching his expression as he contemplated what to say next.

"Can't complain too much." He shrugged, not giving her much to work with.

"How'd it go?" She ventured, her voice no more than a breath, as if she was afraid by saying it, it would speak it into existence.

"Well. You know the Princess, she was very through." Bucky answered slowly. "But all correct and accounted for."

Maggie nodded but said nothing, trying to allow him the space to say what he wanted or what needed to be said. There was a lot on his mind, and Maggie could tell that there was something that he'd been trying to tell her all day but had simply escaped him every time they'd been given half a chance to talk.

"Let's go sit down. You've been on your feet all day. I'm sure you're exhausted." Bucky said finally, extending his hand to her.

Maggie took it wordlessly, allowing him to lead her through the house to the couch, which they sunk into with a contented sigh. Bucky put his arm across her shoulders, and she snuggled against his side, leaning into him. "So this is the Craigslist couch, huh?" He continued as they settled and adjusted for optimal comfort.

"Yeah. I slept on this couch _quite_ a bit while I was helping Steve track you down, and then quite a bit more after I built the house and was in the process of collecting furniture." Maggie answered.

"It’s comfortable.”

“Sam said I should’ve charged a restoration hardware couch to Stark’s business expense account, but I’d argue I’ve gotten more bang for my buck with this crappy little couch.” She sighed. “Did you have a good time? Tonight? With dinner?”

“Yeah. It was good to see everyone.” He answered. Pausing, he shook his head. “I don’t know how you do this day in and day out. I’m exhausted.”

Maggie chuckled, “You get used to it.” She replied, glancing up at him. “But we can go to bed if you’d like. You’ve had a long day.”

“I’m okay. What would you normally do after a long day?”

“Have a glass of wine, watch a movie, make my to-do list for tomorrow.”

“The first two things sound good.” He murmured, leaning over he kissed the top of her head. “Did you ever get through the 100 greatest films?”

“You know, I didn’t. I usually didn’t have the brain space for anything new. With everything else going on. I _did_ watch Casablanca a lot.”

At this, Bucky chuckled. “Silly 1940s nonsense?”

Maggie rolled her eyes with a light laugh, “I’m not sure if I’m glad or mad about you never letting me live that down.” She answered, glancing up at him. “But yes, silly 1940s nonsense.”

Bucky smiled. It was a broad, big smile. The first _real_ smile all day. “Did you ever figure out what ‘here’s looking at you kid’ meant?”

“No. I don’t think I ever did.”

“Well, maybe we should watch the movie again. It might help.” Bucky said, kissing the top of her head again.

“You sure?” She glanced up at him, trying to read his expression and finding only a serious, earnest look on his face.

“Absolutely,” He nodded.

“All right then, let me put it on,” She said, moving from her comfortable spot under his arm to grab the remote.

Queuing up the film, Maggie watched Bucky out of the corner of her eye, trying to get a read on him, trying to guess at what he was thinking. And she’d really thought he had something that he wanted to tell her. Well, maybe he _did_ have something that he wanted to tell her but hadn’t found the right time or right way.

Returning to her spot beside him on the couch, she hit play and let the familiar and comforting opening title wash over her, trying to let the worries of the day be swept away by nostalgia and the bliss of a story where she knew the ending. And although Maggie couldn’t necessarily call Casablanca’s ending happy, it was satisfying. In the end, wasn’t that really all anyone could hope for?

_I thought this was supposed to take your mind off of what is going on._

Yeah. That obviously wasn’t going to happen. Her brain was too loud, and too much had happened to be able to get lost in Casablanca completely. Maggie could also tell that Bucky wasn’t watching the movie either. Sure, his eyes were fixed on the screen, but she could feel him thinking.

Not that she could blame him for being more than just a little distracted. She didn’t blame him, so much had happened in the last two, almost three weeks, and he was still trying to get his feet under him, and now having to grapple with what to do next. _No._ Maggie knew better than that. Maggie knew that Bucky had already made up his mind what to do next. It was the telling her part that he was struggling with.

Which hurt in a way that Maggie hadn’t expected. She understood _why_ he hadn’t talked with her about going back out into the field. They were trying to enjoy the time they had with one another right now, trying to live in the moment. Trying to enjoy here and now rather than the ghosts of what might be, or would be sooner than later. All the same, she didn’t want to think that Bucky thought she would be angry or upset with him for going back out there.

In all fairness, five years ago, she might have been angry, and that was the Mags he was used to thinking about in the context of their relationship and her feelings about the prosthesis and his lifestyle as a fighting man. Then the worst had happened. Sam and Bucky had, for all technical purposes, died, and she’d been forced to deal with the reality of losing them. Then somehow, much to her own surprise, she’d survived. The world had ended, but her world, her life, her goals, and motivations, and aspirations, and dreams, and desires, and purpose, that had kept on spinning. She’d been stronger than she’d expected, and Maggie would argue, had grown even stronger since then.

And she wouldn’t be doing this alone. _They_ wouldn’t be doing this alone. She had a support network, a career, a family, a life, all of which would support her and Bucky and Sam through whatever came next. They were strong enough to weather whatever storm might be brewing ahead

Sighing, she leaned into him further, trying to return her focus to the movie.

Maggie had seen this movie hundreds of times by now. It had become her comfort movie, during those long cold winter nights, when it had just been her for that first long winter, and then later, when she’d helped Bianca with Ava-Maria as a fussy colicky newborn, and then an equally fussy toddler. She’d put it on and let the grainy black and white film play in the background. She knew all the lines by heart and could probably give a one-woman rendition of the whole film apropos nothing.

Yet, tonight, as she watched the love triangle between Ilsa Lund, Rick Blane, and Victor Lazlo unfold, set against the backdrop of the WWII world and the resistance against Nazism around the globe, Maggie couldn’t help but think about some of the similarities the movie bore to her own life. Refugees in Africa. An interrupted love affair. Questions of duty and responsibility. The struggle between love and doing what is best for the betterment of the world, even at great personal loss. But just like Rick said in the film, her story, hers and Bucky’s, it still didn’t have an ending. 

Five years ago, Maggie had thought the Battle for Wakanda and the subsequent disappearance/deaths of half the universe’s population had been their story’s ending. That perhaps somehow, her return to the ranch and the continued muddling through the end of the world was the epilogue to their grand love affair. Instead, now it seemed more like Rick setting up his Café in Casablanca after Ilsa left him standing in the rain at the train station. Now, after trials and tribulations and the changing uncertainty of the world, Maggie would have to say goodbye to him again. There wouldn’t be foggy airport confession or _nearly_ the amount of gin, bourbon, or champagne drinking. But there would have to be a discussion and a decision. And Maggie knew in her heart of hearts that she would have to send Bucky back out there. It was where he belonged, where he would find his peace. She also knew that he would need to hear it from her. All of her reservations, and personal feelings aside, he needed to know that she supported his choice to go back out there. It would be where he could grow and learn and change. It would be better for him than staying with her here. While it could be a slow and quiet life, where they could make their small changes in the little corner of the world she’d carved out, Maggie knew that for him, right now, it would be the equivalent of standing still.

Beautiful as their life had been in Wakanda, and wonderful as this past week had been, it was time for Bucky to go back out there and forge a path all his own.

‘If that plane leaves the ground and you’re not on it, you’ll regret it, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.’ Rick told Ilsa.

 _Jeezus, does that make me Rick and Bucky Ilsa?_ Maggie thought to herself in amusement. _And would that make Sam Victor Lazlo?_ It was an imperfect metaphor, but perhaps in the grand scheme of things, it would be up to her to tell Bucky what he needed to hear.

‘But what about us?’ Ilsa responded.

‘We’ll always have Paris.’

And she and Bucky would always have Wakanda. She—they could look back on their time together and everything they’d had and shared and _been_ in Wakanda with a fondness now that would have only been shaded with pain and regret before he (and half the universe) had returned.

_Well, shit, I am Rick Blane in this scenario, aren’t I?_

Maggie let her mind wander a moment, wondering in a faint and distant sort of way what might have happened had she decided to pick up saloon keeping rather than the life of a rancher and now novice farmer. Choice upon choice upon choice heaped all on top of each other had culminated in everything around her, Bucky, Sam, Dani, the farm, her kids, her friends, her life, her hopes, and her dreams. Everything she’d lost, everything she’d struggled for, and brought her here, and she was happy here. Now, it was time to help Bucky on his journey, on his path to find himself, and find out what type of life he wanted to lead and what type of person he wanted to be.

‘Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’ Rick said as he and Louie disappeared into the fog. The Marseilles swelled before ‘The End’ announced the conclusion of the film.

Maggie hit stop on the remote, and she and Bucky sat in the silence a long while. Bucky was deep in thought; his eyes still focused on the blank screen. There was a crease between his brow that Maggie wanted to smooth away with her thumb as she stroked his face. Yet, even she knew it would have no long-term effect. She could feel him worrying, feel him thinking, feel him puzzling through the next step, the next stage of what he was going to do, who he was going to be.

“It’s bad out there, Mags,” Bucky began breaking the long silence. His gaze unmoving. “Worse than I could’ve imagined from what I’ve been reading in the newspapers.” He shook his head, lowing his eyes. “A lot of instability, uncertainty, and chaos because of what the Avengers did, and now there’s a power vacuum too. When I’m called. If I don’t go out there and help…put things right—and then something happens. I don’t know that I’ll be able to forgive myself.”

‘ _If you don’t go, you’ll regret it, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.’_

“I know.” She said slowly. “Since you’ve been back, I always knew it wasn’t if it was when.”

Maggie felt him inhale a sharp breath, bracing for what he likely thought was going to be anger and indignation. “And that’s okay.” She continued. “If that’s what you need to do if that’s how you’re going to find peace, then I know that’s what you should do.”

They sat with that a moment, Bucky turning it over and over in his mind. There was relief, Maggie could feel it in the way some of the tension eased, but there was also indecision and uncertainty there too.

“I want to be the man you’re holding space for, and I want to live a life where I could participate and contribute to and celebrate this family, this life, this home you’ve created. But if I stay—I know I’m not ready to stay, and I know that the work I do out there—it’ll put you at risk.” He said, his voice faltering as he struggled to put what he was feeling into words.

‘ _Where I’m going, you can’t follow. What I’ve got to do you can’t be any part of.’_ Maggie could hear Humphrey Bogart deliver the line, and she hated how well it tracked with her life, with their lives.

 _I don’t want to lose him again; I can’t lose him again._ Her brain screamed, even as it felt fried, the events of the day and of the last few weeks overloading her system. Then, pausing, she focused on the first part of what he’d said. He wanted to be apart of her life, apart of the home and family she’d built. So why couldn’t he? Well. Aside from the obvious threat of danger and destruction.

“May I hold your hand, please?” She said after a moment.

Bucky nodded earnestly, carefully placing his hand in hers. Enclosing her hands around his, her thumb as caressing his skin, Maggie charged forward as bravely and confidently as she could manage. “You _are_ the man I’m holding space for, James Barnes.” She glanced over at him, meeting his gaze for only a moment, unable to hold it for much longer than that.

Ducking her head, she took a deep breath and continued, “All of you. And while I only waded into the shallow end of the world of spies, heroes, and monsters, I do know something about what this life entails, and I am intimately aware of the risks and consequences.” She stopped, taking a deep breath, her eyes focused down on Bucky’s hand, which she was holding, probably tighter than she should. Still, she knew if she looked back up into those piercing blue eyes watching her with all of their intensity and focus, she might not be able to finish what she desperately needed to say. “But I spent the last five years thinking about the what-ifs, thinking about all the moments we could’ve shared together. And now that I have you back, I’m willing to work through this. Willing to find ways to mitigate those risks to keep you in my life.” She glanced up at Bucky. His expression was firm but not hard. “So long as that is something you’re willing to do with me. As long as you want to stay in my life, as much as I want you to stay in mine.”

“You’d do that for me?” It wasn’t surprise in his voice so much as it was uncertainty.

“Of course, Bucky.” Maggie nodded, feeling her throat and chest squeeze around tears that were ready to form.

“It won’t be easy.”

It wasn’t an outright no, which was all she could ask for in the given circumstances. And she could understand his hesitance. After the saga of the last nine years, she could understand why he would be concerned about the type of danger she might even inadvertently put herself in. She wasn’t exactly known to be discerning about the stupid situations she found herself in, but Maggie liked to think she’d learned a lesson or two over the years. And in all fairness, she had _survived_ all of her encounters and close calls with death.

“Very little about our relationship has been easy, thus far, James Barnes,” She chuckled gently, squeezing his hand three times. “But family, love, relationships, people, life none of it is easy,” Maggie said. “But having you in my life, in my world, even a little bit, to work through this together. It would make things easier. I think. Knowing that you have a place to come back to when you’re able.”

“A home?” He asked.

“Our home.” The word caught unexpectedly in her throat, and she bowed her head, blinking, and trying to clear her throat and control her emotions.

That’s what she wanted. That’s all she’d wanted, and Maggie could feel herself bracing for what he was going to say next.

“I would like that, Mags,” Bucky said slowly. Then reaching down, he kissed the top of her head, his face staying nestled in her hair. She felt him exhale and long breath, tension seeping from his body. “I would like that a lot.”

She felt her whole body relax, her muscles uncoiling, as tears of relief started to blur her vision. “Then that’s all that matters. We’ll figure it out. All that matters is that you want to make this place your home to come back to.”

“I love you, Mags.”

“I love you, Bucky.” She answered, leaning further against him.

They’d lost so much over the past two and half weeks, but they’d gained something too. A future. She and Bucky had never had a future when they’d been in Wakanda. They’d always focused on the here and now, on the present, knowing that the future could hold uncertainty for them. Yet, since Bucky had returned, they had allowed themselves to think about the future, think about what tomorrow and the weeks and months and years after would hold. Now, the future was still uncertain, and it would be fraught with hardships and difficult choices, but after tonight, they had a direction, a path, a way forward.

“Well,” Bucky commented after a long moment. “He’s looking at you, kid.”

And they laughed until they cried, and then without further discussion of what tomorrow might hold, they rose and went upstairs to bed, preparing themselves to take the next step forward, together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in this chapter. I had rather hoped to get everything written before the U.S. Election, but obviously that didn’t happen. THEN. After some soul searching I decided I wasn’t done with Mags and Bucky (so we a 13th chapter)! I hope you are staying safe, and that you continue to enjoy this journey we’re on together.
> 
> Look forward to wrapping this up soon(ish), but until then, Happy Reading!


	12. Perfect Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> Recommended Listening: Angel Flying Too Close Ground by Willie Nelson; (I've Had) The Time of My Life by Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes; Old Time Rock & Roll by Bob Seger; I Will Always Return (Finale) by Bryan Adams
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=-V71bSWoT0Opl8ceOdHE6w

Bucky woke to the sound of pen scratching against paper. He didn’t move for a moment as he listened to the comforting noise, accompanied by her gentle intake and exhale of breath, her body heat warming the blanket that was draped over them, burning like a furnace.

He’d often woken to the same scene back in Wakanda, but today was the first time he’d done that since the blip. Blinking heavily to clear the sleep from his eyes, he glanced over at Mags, who lay with her back to him, her head angled down toward whatever it was she was writing.

The events and the conversations of the day before slowly came back into sharp focus. He and Mags had talked about his decision to go back out there and about Mags’s desire to keep him in her life. Bucky knew it shouldn’t surprise him that she’d taken the news with calm surety, this was a woman who’d survived worse, but all the same, he’d expected her to be upset. Now that there was no looming conflict or angry conversations, he wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed forward.

 _I love you and want you to be apart of my life. We’ll figure this out together. We’ll take the necessary precautions to stay in each other’s lives._ That had been the basic gist of their conversation.

How were they supposed to prepare for what was coming? How serious had she been about working to keep him in her life? What did she envision that might look like? There were a thousand scenarios and possibilities to that end. His head spun with the sheer magnitude of the thing.

Well. He knew that this was a two or three-person task, which couldn’t happen if he didn’t let her know that he was awake. Did he reach out and touch her? The thought occurred, and he contemplated running his fingers across her bare skin.

“I take it you didn’t sleep much.” Bucky began slowly, his voice low, doing his best not to startle her.

Mags chuckled. “I actually slept pretty soundly, all things considered. I woke up with a few things on my mind.” She answered, rolling over to face him, her journal and pen in hand. Her hair framed her face, the flat sheet pulled up and pinned in place under her arms.

“What were you thinking about?” He ventured.

“Wakanda.”

“Oh?”

“Mhhh hmmm.” Mags nodded. “Thinking about that last morning we had together. Before the Battle of Wakanda.”

“How I just wanted to stay in bed?”

“Yeah. Wondering if it would’ve been better, at least for me, had we known that it would be the last day together. The last day of our perfect moment.”

Bucky nodded, allowing his mind to wander through that particular scenario. Would it have made their parting easier? Knowing that it would be their last day together? Yet, even knowing what he knew now, and how long it would be before they would see one another again, Bucky wasn’t sure he’d want to know. Though, it _certainly_ would’ve changed his approach to the day.

So. What if today was their last day together for a while? _That_ was always a possibility. What would he want to say to her? What would he want her to know or do? Their conversations from the day prior pinged around in his mind as he tried to find a way to draw all of what he was feeling and thoughts into coherent words.

“I don’t know if it would’ve helped, knowing what was going to happen, but I think it would’ve helped to have a plan for what you were going to do in the case of my death.”

“In case of a world-ending mass extinction event?” Mags raised an eyebrow.

“I take your point.”

“And I take yours. It wouldn’t have made anything easier for us in the lead-up, but it might have helped me in the aftermath.”

“Though. You did seem to do pretty well for yourself.”

“Well, you didn’t get to see the shit show for the first year or so.” She chuckled warmly. “And which is very much why I’m such a pro-planning, pro-contingency person _now_. Better to have plans in place before you leave on your next adventure so that we’re not scrambling to figure things out as we go.”

A knot formed in his chest, and he swallowed hard, trying to ease the tension it created. “You’re really okay with me leaving.” Bucky paused, clearing his throat. He shook his head. “I mean...you don’t…you don’t think I’m going the wrong direction?”

Bucky watched her expression as he asked the question, and her features remained still as she contemplated his words. Sitting up, she brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, her hands tracing the line of his jaw a moment as she took stock of him.

“I know you’re doing what you think is right. What you think will help you find peace. Only time will be able to tell anything else.”

“That’s not a real answer.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.”

She paused, mulling over his question, and likely her answer a moment, her expression pinched into concentration, “Do you want a real answer, or do you want to hear what you need to hear?”

Bucky’s heart sunk, but he could understand why she’d drawn that distinction. There was a difference between the two. It just stung a bit to hear it put in such blunt terms. “I love you. I want to hear your real answer.”

“Okay.” Mags continued slowly with a long sigh. “The real answer.” She paused, giving him another once over. “I understand that going out there is what you need to do. If for a moment I thought retiring would bring you an ounce of peace and allow you to ease your conscience, I wouldn’t hesitate to ask you to retire. I would ask that you retire in a heartbeat. Because no. I don’t _like_ that you’re going to throw yourself in harm's way. I don’t like the dangers that the superhero, assassin, spy lifestyle presents, but I do understand that’s part of your journey, part of moving forward for you. Even if I don’t like it, it’s what has to happen for you to find peace. I can’t and shouldn’t get in the way of what you _need_ to do, even if I don’t like it.”

“Would it be easier for you if I just walked away?” Bucky ventured uncertainly. They’d talked about this, but it didn’t hurt to ask, again. Perhaps she’d change her mind and decide that it _would_ be easier. Then again, maybe not. But whatever she said, he would abide. He owed her that at the very least.

“No.” Mags shook her head, “No. It wouldn’t be.” She glanced down at her journal, gathering her thoughts before looking back up at him. “I lost you for five years. I don’t want to lose you again.” Maggie said.

He could hear the sadness in her voice, and he could understand some of the pain in her words. She’d gained so much over the past five years without him, but to get him back from the dead only to lose him again.

Taking a deep breath, she continued, “So. Keeping you in my life, even a little bit, to include you in my journey, and maybe be apart of yours, that would make the risk worth it to me. So that you have a place, a home to come back to when you’re ready.”

“Home.” He said slowly. The word felt warm in his chest as he said it. “Our home.”

“Our home.” She echoed. “You, me, Dani, the kids, Sam, Alejandra. All of us.”

Bucky chuckled, nodding. “Dani said you’d make the world your family if you could.”

“I _could_ if I tried hard enough.” Mags smiled. “But mostly, I need to concentrate on keeping the family and home I have now _safe._ ”

And they were back. They hadn’t ventured very far, but Bucky had wondered when they would arrive at this inevitable juncture, and the discussion of how best to keep everyone safe and out of harm's way was one he wasn’t sure any of them were prepared for.

“I have ideas.” She continued. “If you’d like to hear them.”

“I’m open to hearing your suggestions.”

“Well.” Mags cleared her throat, setting the journal down between them. She smoothed out the pages and tucked the pencil behind her ear as she focused down on what she’d written. “They basically break down into three categories: communication, on-site security, and emergency protocol.”

Bucky nodded, urging her forward. Mags talked for what was close to forty-five minutes talking through P.O. Boxes, burn phones, coded correspondence, perimeter, and house alarms, security cameras, and data encryption. She’d created a list of things, detailing their purpose and function in keeping them both safe.

All of it, Bucky couldn’t help but notice, sounded like advice from Natasha, or at least in the same field of thinking as Natasha would’ve suggested. Mags’s plans were solid but would require some tweaking to hold up to a standard Natasha would expect from him to keep Mags out of harm’s way. So as she spoke, Bucky started taking mental notes, knowing that he’d need to do a perimeter check of both the house and the farm property line to determine the next course of action and security requirements.

“So what do you think?” Mags asked breathlessly by was of a conclusion.

“It sounds like you know what you’re doing.”

“I did learn a few things from Natasha, and I survived on my own in Juarez.”

“You were recruited to fight cartels, and got shot, doll. I wouldn’t call that a successful infiltration and evasion mission.”

“I came out of it all right, and it was definitely a learning experience.” She said, not quite defensively, but certainly trying to play down the event's actual severity.

“If that’s what you’re calling it, let’s go with that.”

Mags stuck out her tongue but then immediately smiled, falling back against the pillows. “Thanks for that, Barnes.”

“Any time, Ramirez.” Bucky paused. “That sounds good. There are some things I’d like to tweak from your plans, but you have a solid starting place.”

“Thank you. I’m glad I’ve come up with some workable solutions.”

“On the letters, we’ll need to use a double cipher.”

“Oooh. A double cipher, it’s been a bit.”

“I can give you a refresher. How’s your Russian?”

“Pretty shitty.”

He laughed, “this would probably be easier in Spanish.”

“What would be more effective?”

“A language that you don’t need to keep a translation dictionary laying around for someone to find.”

“Ahhh, yeah. That would make Spanish the best option.”

Bucky hesitated, glancing her up and down as she lay there looking up at him with an expression that could only be described as adoring. “You’re really willing to do this with me?”

“Of course. I have to remind you that I exist after all so that you don’t forget about me.”

“I won’t be able to respond frequently when I’m out there, you know.”

“I know.” She answered earnestly. “I’m somewhat familiar with the life of a soldier’s partner.”

“Okay. I just want you to know that my responses are not a reflection of how much I love you or will want to tell you what I’m up to.”

“I appreciate the reminder,” She paused, leaning up to kiss him. “And I love you too.”

Bucky winced as her alarm clock started to blare. Mags slammed it off and sighed.

“What do we have today?” He asked after a beat of silence.

“Same as yesterday, only Sam is supposed to come back to stay. That way, you and him can help me work up security on this place.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“Good.” She kissed him again. “Oh, and Dani’s coming for dinner.”

“Alejandra?”

“She’s out visiting her family.”

“Ah.” Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of that. He liked Dani well enough but thought it was kinda strange that they’d yet to see anything of Alejandra. It wasn’t that he was suspicious. It was just… _peculiar._

“I know I haven’t met her either. I’m just as curious as you are.” Maggie sighed, “But I imagine Dani wants it just to be her and I when we finally meet. Keep the awkward and uncomfortable down to a manageable level.

“Fair enough,” He conceded, kissing the top of her head. What a strange few weeks it had been. Bucky could only wonder how non-superhero people were dealing with all of this change. Then he glanced over at Mags. How would she manage to straddle that divide when he left? Was he just leaving her safety to chance? What could he _actually_ do in the event that something went wrong?

“What is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can feel you thinking, James Barnes.”

“Can you? That’s a new one.” He chuckled. But then he grew serious as she saw how stern her expression was. “I want to keep you safe, Mags, and I don’t know if I can.”

“It’s a strange place to be.”

He nodded. Of course, she was referencing their conversation from the helipad back in Wakanda. The difference between being the one to stay versus being the one to leave. Now, it didn’t seem that it mattered who was leaving or who was staying. There was danger and threats to their safety that neither of them could prevent.

“We’ll do our best to keep each other safe.” She sighed, breathing into him. “That’s all we can do.”

Mags didn’t move, just holding him a moment, and Bucky was struck by the profound bravery of such a statement. Did she know? Certainly, she knew how brave that was. “You’re very brave, Mags.” He managed after a beat of silence.

She didn’t say anything a moment, but her face was obscured, and he couldn’t see her expression to read it. Then, as she spoke, there was hesitance in her voice. “You know. I don’t consider myself brave. There’s something heroic about the word. I’m not a hero. At best, I’m a civilian liaison, at worst collateral damage. But mostly, I’m just an average person trying to do my best for the people around me.”

“Doll. I think you may have just defined bravery and heroism.”

“I’m dumb and stubborn.”

“You’re not making a good case against. You should just own it. You’re a hero. You’re _my_ hero.”

At this, she huffed, looking up at him, her face flushed with a rising blush. “You’re _my_ hero, James Barnes.” She countered.

“I hope to be worthy of that someday.”

“You _are_ worthy.”

“And we _are_ going to be late if we don’t get a move on.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She grumbled.

“And if I’m going to address security weaknesses, it’s going to be a two-armed Barnes kind of day,” Bucky said, bracing for her reaction.

“Ahh. Is that what we’re calling it?”

“As I haven’t come up with anything better, yeah.” He exhaled a small breath with a small chuckle.

“Well, we’ll have to work on it then, yeah?” She teased, kissing his cheek.

“Yes, we will.”

They rose, and she dressed before helping him attach the prosthesis, and they wordlessly moved through their morning routine before proceeding downstairs. They started the coffee and milled around the kitchen a bit, Bucky savoring the comfort of the sights and sounds of their morning.

“Did Sam say what time he’d be over?” He asked over a bowl of cereal after they’d been munching contentedly in silence for a few minutes.

“After he dropped his mom and sisters off at the airport.” Mags paused, checking her phone. “He did say he’d text when he was headed this way.”

“Fair enough.” Bucky nodded.

“What’d’ya think of Sam’s family?” Mags asked slyly, her eyes down toward her cereal.

“Mrs. Wilson is hard to get a read on.”

Mags laughed, nodding in agreement. “Yeah. She is, but for what it's worth, I think she liked you, well enough anyway.”

“Glad to be liked well enough.” He said, mentally adding, ‘it’s more than I deserve.’

The point was, was that he wanted to deserve it. So the next conversation he’d need to have would be with Sam, about how best to keep Mags safe when they couldn’t be around. Steve had never had a plan for the long term, but Bucky could only hope that _Sam_ would see the benefit of having a plan. Or at the very least, having a plan when it came to Mags’s safety.

“Well, fortunately for you, I like you more than just ‘well enough,’” Mags chuckled as she rose, rounding the table she kissed him. “Now. We have chores to do.”

“So we do.” Bucky agreed, rising and following her to the sink.

Cleaning away their dishes and finishing their coffee, they proceeded down to the barn to begin the day’s tasks. After they fed and then put all the animals out for the day, Bucky excused himself to walk the property. As he walked, he started to formulate a security plan for the farm. Returning inside to grab a note pad, he found Sam drinking coffee and scrolling through his phone as he stood at the kitchen island. 

Bucky stopped as Sam glanced up from the screen. “Your family get off safely?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah. It was good to see them.” Sam paused, giving him a once over. “So. What’s the play, Barnes?”

“I’ll go where I’m needed.” It was a stupid response. Vague enough not to have any teeth, but earnest enough to get the point across. He was going to follow Captain America into the jaws of whatever came after them. Not because Steve had asked him to, but because it was the right thing to do.

“You tell her that?” Sam glanced out the large window where they could see Mags watering the garden.

“I did.” Bucky nodded, bracing for some reason. Would Sam approve of Mags’s plans or her desire to keep him in her life? And what sort of trouble would that cause them in the long term?

“How’d she take it?” Sam continued, seemingly unaffected.

“She said she understood.”

“That all?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Said she wanted to keep me in her life.”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded knowingly. “That sounds like Mags.” He shook his head, a grave line between his brow and a firmness to his jaw. “She uh she said that to me after Riley died.” There was a pause, and Bucky was almost sure Sam wasn’t going to finish his thought. Then, he looked up and met Bucky’s gaze and continued. “She said she wanted me in her life. I didn’t have the heart to come back here. Not when we’d planned a life here, the three of us. But I also couldn’t tell her no, not outright anyway. It caused a falling out, a bad one.” He said, taking a sip from his mug. “Whatever you promise her, Barnes, make sure you’re prepared to keep that promise.”

Bucky nodded. It wasn’t a warning. Well, it _was_ a warning, but not a threat. Not a, you hurt her, and I bury your body somewhere no one can find her type of thing.

Sam knew Mags and knew what would happen if Bucky broke his promise. It was a warning from someone who loved Mags and who had hurt her in the past. “We’re trying to figure out the safest way to do that, and I’d welcome your suggestions on how to do that.”

 _Walk away._ Bucky could almost hear him say, and he wouldn’t blame the man.

Instead, Sam nodded again, “What did you have in mind?”

Bucky must’ve looked surprised because he laughed, “What’d you expect me to say?”

“Walk away.” He admitted.

“Look, man. I know Mags, what she’s like and what she’s willing to do to keep her family together. So frankly, I’d rather have a plan for when the next round of goons come to knock down her door.” He said, looking him up and down. “So. What do you got?”

“Let me grab a notepad.”

“Oh. It’s going to be one of _those_ discussions.” Sam said, “All right. I got you.” He cleared away his breakfast and made a space beside him for them to work.

They spent the rest of the morning drafting an action plan, and then the afternoon was spent talking through its implementation. Sam slipped away to make a few phone calls, and Mags slumped down in her chair at the kitchen table with a long exhale. “Having second thoughts?” He asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s a lot to digest, but it all makes logical sense to me for how it will keep us safe.”

“Us.” Bucky had to keep himself from smiling at the thought.

Then Mags paused. “I’ve been thinking about our code.”

“Yeah?”

“Should we use code names?”

“Why? You have something in mind?”

“Well. I’m of two opinions.”

“All right. Let’s hear them.”

“One: It would help keep those closest to me safe if their names aren’t mentioned but then two: if someone has gotten ahold of our correspondence and managed to decode it, we have bigger problems.” She said seriously.

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, trying not to marvel openly. He should’ve expected her to think like an agent or operative. After all, she had worked with Natasha for two years and further had survived, albeit not well, in Juarez on her own. Her points were good ones, and it was almost a relief to think that she was thinking two steps ahead. “I leave that to you, and as you said, it’s a risk either way. I personally won’t refer to anyone on your side by name, but what you choose to do is up to your discretion. ”

Mags nodded, “Well. It’s good to know I’m on the right track.” She smiled, leaning in to kiss him. Then she sighed heavily as her phone started to ring. “I’m so sorry.” Mags shook her head, sitting up. “I have to take this.”

“Go.” He replied. “I’ll be down bringing everyone in for the night.”

“That sounds good.”

Bucky watched as she moved into the office, closing the door to a crack behind her. He sighed. It wasn’t an anguished or even particularly heavy sigh. It was, if he dared think it, a sigh of relief.

Life had carried on without him for five years, and life would carry on here without him after he left. What was comforting was the ease in which Mags had adapted to include him in the life they _could_ share and would share into the future. He’d woken up this morning with a feeling of uncertainty. Not knowing if she was prepared to deal with what would likely be a difficult life, full of secrets and danger and intrigue. Yet, not to his surprise but rather to his wonder, Mags had risen to the occasion, as she always had, and faced the practical and impractical realities of their situation. And as much as he hated the idea of leaving her to fend for herself, they were far more prepared this time than they had been the last time he’d returned to active duty. He was likewise comforted in the fact that time and time again, Mags had proved she was capable. She was strong, _they_ were strong, and together they’d put together a plan to ensure everyone’s safety.

They _were_ going to be okay.

 _I’ll be getting v-mail._ He couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea and the sense of familiarity the thought of receiving correspondence from the home front conjured. There wouldn’t be mail call like his old army days, but he would savor every opportunity to hear what was going on in her life, and the life of the farm, and the people around her. And that would be enough to know that she was moving forward and living her life, rather than fretting and waiting around for him to come home. It would make the time they would spend together all the sweeter and give him and Sam something to look forward to.

Not a perfect solution, but it was a workable one, and Bucky would take it. 

-

By the time she got off the phone with Mike, Bucky had finished the evening chores and had gone upstairs to shower and change, leaving Sam downstairs sitting on the couch. It had been a day. Of course, all of her days were long, but today had been mostly spent thinking about things that, while familiar, were mostly out of her pay grade. She’d be lying, of course, to say that she didn’t feel completely overwhelmed and intimidated by what they were proposing to undertake. Then again, she’d felt overwhelmed and intimidated over the last five years and beyond as she’d taken on new skills, responsibilities, and daunting tasks, and somehow she’d managed to survive thus far. The difference now was that she had both her boys around her and they were working as a team to figure this all out.

“Hey!” Maggie flopped down on the couch beside Sam. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going,” Sam answered, looking over at her.

“What?” Maggie asked after a moment.

“You’re serious about trying to have The Winter Soldier in your life?”

“I want you in my life too, you know,” Maggie said seriously. “But yes. As I told Bucky this morning, I lost _both_ of you for five years. I’m not going to let you get away that easy.”

“Yeah, that sounds like you.” He shook his head. “But I’m glad you’re thinking about safety strategy this time around.”

“Thanks for that, Sam.” Maggie stuck her tongue out with a chuckle. “But I figure _someone_ around here needs to have a plan to keep everyone safe when not everyone is a superhero. I can’t just up and run to Juarez again, can I?” She laughed but stopped midway through as she saw Sam’s expression go suddenly grave. “Sam?”

Sam sighed, trying to find his words. “When you disappeared--went off the grid.” He began haltingly. “I thought the worst had happened. We hadn’t planned for anything like that. I had no way to get a hold of you. And even if we hadn’t been on the run—the fact that you were alone.”

Maggie could hear the pain in his voice, and it dawned on her that much like after the Battle of Wakanda when she’d been wholly unprepared to deal with losing Sam, he too had been unprepared at the notion of losing her. There was still love between them. It was not romantic love or even the love of siblings, but a deep platonic love, with the surety that the other person was ‘ride or die’ to the end, no matter the reason. She’d missed this, missed him in the years after Riley's death and during the blip, and it both hurt and felt good in equal shares to know that Sam felt the same way about her as she did about him.

He shook his head continuing without waiting for a response. “I know you got dragged into this mess initially partially because of me. And I’m hesitant to get you involved again. But since you _are_ invested in keeping Barnes and me in your life, I’m glad you’re taking steps to be safe into the future.”

“Well, I _have_ grown as a human being in the last five years. And it’s not just me anymore. I know that I have responsibilities and that safety and security are going to be key.”

“Well, to that end,” Sam continued. “Be expecting a phone call from a guy named Luis tomorrow. He’s from X-Con Security Consultants. He’s friends with Scott Lang. They’ve agreed to set up your security system.”

“Scott Lang? As in Ant-Man? as in the guy—”

“I thought we’d agreed never to talk about that—”

“No, the agreement was never to tell Cap,’ and as Steven Grant Rogers is no longer Cap,’ I feel that our original agreement is null and void. Unless you being Cap’ continues that agreement.”

As she spoke, Maggie immediately saw Sam’s expression once again grow grim, and what had been harmless teasing had inadvertently turned into something potentially painful.

“I’m sorry--I mean to bring him up. I just—”

“It’s not that.” Sam shook his head. “It’s going to be a fight. Maybe one I can’t win about who the next Cap’ is.”

“A fight from whom?”

“Those who have a particular bone to pick with how Steve chose to comport himself as Captain America,” Sam said, a particular note of bitterness strong on his voice.

“Ah.” Maggie managed. Yeah, unfortunately, that made a horrible kind of sense. Steve hadn’t been known to just shut up and take orders. Now that the opportunity presented itself, she had no doubt the authorities would want to replace someone more in keeping with policy line. Which in and of itself was a slander on what Captain America was supposed to be, but she could see the appeal in replacing Steve Rogers, known chronic hardheaded asshole, with more of a yes man. “Well, if it comes to a fight, you won’t be alone.”

“You mean you? Or?” Sam glanced over her shoulder, and she turned as Bucky emerged from the hall into the living room.

“Yes.” She answered firmly, quickly pecking him on the cheek before standing up.

Maggie paused to survey Bucky as he approached them. He was freshly showered, his hair was pulled back into a low bun, and he wasn’t wearing the prosthesis.

 _But of course._ He was off duty. She could tell by his posture and gait, which looked and sounded more relaxed than before. It wasn’t so much that she _minded_ two-armed Barnes. It was just she preferred the softer Bucky she’d grown to love in Wakanda, even if now it was a mere shadow of the mind. She would get used to two-armed Barnes. It was just going to take her a little while.

Maggie cleared her throat, blushing just a bit as she realized she’d been staring and that the whole room was looking at her, waiting for her to say what she was going to say. “Dani hasn’t texted yet, but she said she was going to bring stuff for stir fry this evening. Unless you two gentlemen have objections.”

“None from me.” Sam shook his head.

“None here.” Bucky chorused.

“Well, good.” She beamed. “I’m going to go upstairs and shower and change. I’ll be back down in a few.” Maggie nabbed a quick kiss from Bucky before continued down the hall and up the stairs.

Stripping and stepping into the hot stream, Maggie let the water soak her, and the heat seep into her muscles.

She sighed. She was tired. Very Tired. But she was…well…happy, content, fulfilled even. Much to her surprise, she wasn’t panicking about the newest development with Bucky and Sam. She was concerned, certainly. Maggie would even go so far as to say, worried. But that wasn’t bone-crushing, world-ending anxiety.

They had a plan and their contingencies, and yes, it was scary. It was a leap of faith but then again, wasn’t that just life? A leap of faith? A series of adventures? Moments, all riddled with danger and uncertainty and unexpected twists and turns? Now was time for the next step, the next leap, the next story to begin, and Maggie was just glad they would be doing it together.

Then her mind circled back around to what she’d meant when she’d answered _Yes_ to Sam’s question. It was a wholehearted, yes. She believed with all of her heart and soul and every fiber of her being that, if there were a fight coming, Bucky would stand at Sam’s side. It was just part of who Bucky was and the type of loyalty and friendship that Sam inspired. She wasn’t sure she’d call Bucky and Sam _friends_ at the moment, but it was possible for them to become so. And the only way that would be possible was for Bucky to go out there. He couldn’t do that here, standing still, trying to mold himself into something he wasn’t.

Then, Maggie washed, dressed, and wandered back downstairs to find Sam cutting veg, Bucky searing meat in the wok while Dani sat on the counter, drinking a glass of wine.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I put your boys to work,” Dani smirked into her glass.

“To be fair, we did volunteer,” Sam said. “And after all the cooking you’ve done for us Mags, we thought we should return the favor.”

“Earning your keep, huh? I like that.” Maggie laughed.

“Doing our best, anyway,” Bucky called from where he stood in front of the stove.

“Well. Don’t let us get in your way.” Maggie turned to Dani, “Can I join you?”

“Yes. Would you like a glass?”

“Sure.” Maggie poured herself a glass of wine and clambered up onto the counter, situating herself beside Dani on the counter.

“So I hear you all had some company last night,” Dani continued.

“We did. It was fun.” Maggie nodded.

“Sorry I missed it,” Dani commented. “I trust Mags was on her best behavior.”

“She was. She told that story about Steve Kicks.”

“She does love that one.” Dani agreed.

“You must have some questions for us,” Sam countered, “I’m sure there are things Mags hasn’t told you that you want to know.”

“Oh. Hmmm.” Dani paused, taking a sip of her wine. “Mags, believe it or not, has been fairly open about her past…” She faded off, glancing at Maggie and then over at Bucky. “Though I am curious—”

“Oh?” Everyone paused in their respective tasks and turned to Dani.

Maggie glanced around at all of the faces, unsure where Dani was going with this, but knew that it would likely result in an embarrassing story or two. Not that she minded, instead Maggie just felt she should probably be slightly more inebriated before subjected to the full extent of the knowledge sharing that could be done in the assembled company.

“I’ve heard several stories from Wakanda, as well as stories about how Mags got involved with a couple of hotshot para-rescue airmen. But.” At this, Dani turned to Bucky. “It never was made clear to me how the man she found in her barn turned into…well…you.”

“Oooh, now this is one I haven’t heard,” Sam commented as he returned to chopping vegetables.

Bucky glanced over at Maggie and then at Dani. “I’d be interested to hear that if you’re up to telling the tale,” Dani chuckled.

“Would it be after the trip down the mountain, or when you nearly tripped over me at two in the morning while I was stargazing?” She asked Bucky.

He chuckled with a nod. “First one, then the other?”

“I need more wine for this.” Maggie shook her head, taking a large gulp of the bitter Malbec Dani had poured in her glass.

“Oh. That’s how you know the story is going to be good,” Sam laughed.

“Well. Like most things, it begins with my ass-backward sense of direction,” Maggie started. And thus she launched into the story of their trip down the mountainside. Or rather, her slip and fractured ankle, and Bucky’s kind enough sensibilities to carry her the rest of the way down.

Dani laughed and smiled as she spoke, while Sam and Bucky dutifully prepared dinner. They’d concluded making dinner and moved to the table by the time Maggie began telling the story of the 2 am encounter in the field and the subsequent Tuesday lunches that followed.

Then she and Bucky talked through the Mid-Winter festival when they’d started talking about movies and popular culture, “And it was shortly after that we watched Casablanca together.”

“Oh. So _you’re_ the reason for her obsession with that movie.” Dani teased.

“I am _not_ obsessed.” Maggie protested.

“You have to own your obsession with that movie, my love. It’s like my thing with Patrick Swayze movies. It’s endearing, but a little embarrassing.” She chuckled, pecking her on the cheek.

“To Mags’s point. She was, in fact, not at all interested in 1940s nonsense.” Bucky interjected.

“Thank you.”

“But it _is_ endearing that she’s taken such a shine to that film.” He continued.

“Ugh.” Maggie moaned as the table erupted into boisterous laugher, but she joined in shortly after. If this was to be the worst of the teasing, it was something she’d gladly take.

The laughing was cut short by the sound of Sam’s phone buzzing, and he rose as he saw the number before glancing over at Bucky, who fished his phone from his pocket, also rising. “Excuse us,” Sam said as both men walked from the room.

Fighting back a sensation of foreboding, Maggie looked over at Dani who’s eyes followed the men, an amused expression still lingering on her face. “Are you having a good time?” She asked gently, resting her hand on Dani’s.

“I _am._ It’s nice to be able to actually have a conversation with them.” She paused, pulling her hand from under Maggie’s. She carefully brushed a strand of hair that had fallen across Maggie’s eyes, tucking it behind her ear. “I can see what you see in them. And I understand how hard it was to lose them for so long.”

Maggie nodded. “I wish Alejandra could’ve joined us. It would be nice to be able to meet someone so important to you.”

“Soon enough, mi amore, soon enough.” Dani smiled.

“Sorry about that,” Sam said as they both filed back into the kitchen.

“Work?” Maggie asked.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded.

There was a long pause as a myriad of emotions threatened to wash over her. Had they been called up now? Was it an emergency? “You have your orders?” She questioned, glancing between them.

“Tomorrow. First thing.” Sam answered as they both sunk down into their chairs.

“Back on active duty already?” Dani asked as lightly as she could manage.

“TBD,” Bucky said gravely.

There was a long pause, the silence filling up the room and filling with a sense of dread and uncertainty.

“Well. Do you two have time to watch a movie after dinner?” Dani continued.

“What did you have in mind?” Bucky answered, glancing between her and Dani.

“I—uh—I didn’t actually.” Maggie looked over at Dani, who was looking smug.

“Have you ever seen Dirty Dancing?” Dani asked Bucky.

“I can’t say that I have.” Bucky shook his head.

“How about you, Sam?”

“Oh, yes. A time or two. But in the name of educating Barnes, I think it would be a good watch.”

Maggie rolled her eyes.

“Mags isn’t a fan,” Dani explained to Bucky.

“I—I—Just—hmmm—I don’t _dislike_ it. Not actively—it’s just not my thing.” She stammered, shaking her head before taking another sip from her glass.

“Oh. Now I think Barnes should _definitely_ watch Dirty Dancing,” Sam said in what Maggie could only classify as a goading voice.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “I said I don’t dislike the film, and if it’s something that Dani wants to watch and that you and Bucky don’t have an issue with, I’m game.”

“Talk about serious arm twisting, huh?” Sam glanced over at Dani with a wink.

Bucky watched the scene unfold, an amused expression on his face as he gauged the reactions of everyone present. “It can’t be any worse than my 1940s nonsense, right, doll?” Bucky asked with a wry smile.

“It will be uhhh educational.”

“Educational.” Bucky echoed.

“Educational,” Maggie affirmed.

“It won’t be _so_ bad. Now come on, let’s clean up so we can get to it.” Dani said.

With a general murmur of consensus, they finished up dinner and cleared away most of the dishes before they settled down on the couch. After some minor jockeying, Maggie found herself wedged between Sam and Dani on the couch, Bucky sitting at her feet.

“You ready for this, Bucky Barnes?” Dani asked, queuing up the film.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Dani.” He chuckled lightly.

Turning down the lights, Dani pressed play, and they were immersed in the world of…well…Dirty Dancing. Dani held Maggie’s right hand, while Maggie played with Bucky’s hair with her left hand. As the movie played on, Maggie sat back and melted into the moment, savoring the simple joy of being surrounded by her loves, strange and complicated and odd as it was, they’d all met and known and in their own strange ways loved a different version of herself. They were now all here together with her, just for this moment. How strange to think of her life now as compared to how it had been three weeks ago, never mind five years ago. It would’ve been impossible to imagine, never mind grasp that _this_ was her reality, and what a beautiful life it was indeed.

Mostly, Maggie tried to keep herself rooted in the moment, knowing once it passed, it would be a while before they would get a chance to do anything like this again.

Yet, try as she might, she could feel her mind wandering, contemplating all of the scenarios of what tomorrow would bring and what her life might be like in the days to come.

About three-quarters of the way through the film, Bucky took her left hand, squeezing it three times, which she returned in kind. Dani, seeing this, squeezed Maggie’s right hand three times. It took everything she had to fight back a peal of laughter, but Maggie returned the gesture with a broad smile across her face.

The last dance scene came on, _finally,_ and Maggie watched her living room as the scene progressed. Dani was, of course, enamored, Sam smiling to himself, Bucky’s head slightly cocked, though she couldn’t make out his expression she was sure it was a look of vague intrigue and curiosity.

Dani refrained from her usual full chested sing-along of “time of our lives,” but Maggie could still hear the woman mouth along to the words.

The movie credits rolled, and Dani turned back on the lights, turning to Bucky expectantly. “So?” She asked.

“That was… _interesting,_ ” Bucky said evenly, without displaying a hint of emotion.

At this, Dani threw her head back laughing, giving Bucky a chance to turn to look at Dani, glancing over his should to meet Maggie’s gaze. “Oh, you sweet man, thank you for sitting through that for me.” Dani managed as her laughter subsided.

“I never said it was terrible.” Bucky protested.

“No. I but I know the look of a man who just sat through something for the love of his partner and his partner’s partner.” Dani said.

“Which is appreciated,” Maggie added, leaning down and kissing the top of his head, his face still angled up toward Dani’s. “And it is a classic, and now you can say that you’ve seen it and don’t have to be put through that ordeal again.”

“Unlike her, who will have to sit through it again in a week or two.” Dani teased. “And what about Sam Wilson? What did you think?” She asked, turning to Sam, who had been watching the three of them from his corner of the couch.

“I mean. I’ve seen it before. So nothing new there. I’ve also had multiple partners try to replicate the running jump lift nonsense at the end.” Sam commented. “

“Really?” Dani asked with eager delight.

“Ohhh, boy.” Maggie laughed, “Sam. You don’t know what you’re in for.”

“I’m not going to ask him that, Mags,” Dani said.

“No. I know, but I know you want to. I’m unfortunately neither strong nor tall enough to be Patrick Swayze.” Maggie smiled.

“Well, If you wanna run and jump at me, Dani, I’ll catch you. But I’m not doing it to music.” Sam said as he rose from the couch. “And this is a once in a lifetime offer.”

“Not true. He’s a butterball and will totally do it if you ask.” Maggie countered.

“Well…” Dani glanced between Maggie and Sam. “Okay.” She said, clambering off the couch and to a stretch of free space as she and Sam started talking out logistics.

“You’re going to want to move so that you can see this.” Maggie said to Bucky, who rose from his spot in front of the couch and turned to face the cleared space leading from the hall to the kitchen through the living room where Sam and Dani proposed to hold their “Dirty Dancing” reenactment.

“You’re probably going to want to take off your socks, so this doesn’t turn into a “Risky Business” slide,” Sam called to Dani, who had back up a few yards to achieve the proper momentum for the aerial lift.

“Risky business?” Bucky echoed.

“Another movie reference, we’ll have to show you once Dani is done with running at Sam,” Maggie explained quickly, not taking her eyes off of Dani and Sam as they attempted the lift.

It took three tries to get it right, and there were cheers and applause from everyone as Sam lifted Dani in the air. “Was that fun?” Sam asked Dani as he set her firmly back on the floor.

“Yes. Thank you, Samuel Wilson.” She grinned, pecking him on the cheek.

“Well, anyone else want a go? Mags? Barnes?”

“Me running at you or you running at me?” Bucky answered dryly. “I don’t think either would work well while I’m down an arm.”

“Well, go upstairs and throw it on Metal Man. Now I’m curious.”

“Yeah, no. Don’t think so. Besides, Mags said she was going to show me the ‘Risky Business’ sock slide.” Bucky countered.

“Oh. Did she now?” Sam raised an eyebrow with a laugh.

“As the resident sock slide champion. Yes. Yes, I will.” Maggie said with a big smile.

“Resident champion? I beg your pardon?” Sam replied incredulously. “Dani, Barnes, back me up. We all know she’s the clumsiest person in the world.”

“Yes. Yes.” Maggie conceded, rising to her feet and walking down toward the front door. “I _am_ clumsy, but I _am_ a _boss_ at the sock slide.” Then she turned to Dani, “If you could set the tone, my dear?”

“Absolutely, my love.”

Old-time Rock & Roll started to play, and Maggie ran down the hall, stopping and letting her momentum carry her on an epic sock slide. So epic, in fact, that she crashed directly into Sam, who almost toppled over with the force of impact.

“Sock slide boss? Watch this.” Sam countered as soon as Maggie was steady on her feet, walking to the end of the hallway and executing a near perfectly timed sock slide.

“Dani? Bucky? Care for a spin?” Maggie suggested.

“Don’t see why not. Watch out. I don’t want to knock anyone over.” Bucky said.

Walking down where Sam had started, he sock slid with ease into the center of the living room. Dani went next, her balance wobbling as she slid, and then Sam, and then Maggie, and then Bucky, and then Sam and then Bucky again. Around and around for the full duration of the song, they slid in their socks down her hallway until they all just burst into laughter, collapsing into the couch as the music faded into silence.

“Well. I think that was actually more fun than the movie.” Maggie ventured after a moment.

“Hey,” Dani protested with a childish whine in her voice. “That’s not fair.”

“But it is true. And I will watch Dirty Dancing again next week when you ask me to because I love you.” Maggie said, kissing Dani on the cheek.

“That’s true love for you right there.” Sam chuckled.

“Well, next time we can all get together to watch a movie, you two can pick something,” Dani said as she dislodged herself from the couch and rose to her feet. “But unfortunately, I have an early morning, and from the sounds of it, you two do too.”

“Yeah. I’m afraid so.” Sam nodded.

“Then let me get out of your hair so you can prepare for the day,” Dani said firmly.

Maggie could feel an air of tension ease back in around them, as the warm laughter and pure giddy silliness of just a few moments prior seeped away into almost nothing.

“Let me walk you out.” Maggie managed after a moment.

“Of course.” Dani smiled as she collected her things and slipped on her shoes. Turning back to look at the guy, she smiled, giving them both a hug, “It was good to see you both, be safe. Have a good night!”

“You too. Good to see you too.” Bucky and Sam both intoned before Maggie and Dani walked down the hall to the front door.

Reaching the front door, Maggie and Dani paused. “Was that fun? Did you have a good time tonight?” Maggie asked, trying to keep the anxious note out of her voice. It was one thing to have date night. It was another to have date night with two other people you just basically met.

“Yes, my love. It was fun. I’ll have to get you together with Ali soon. Then it will be my turn to be anxious,” Dani said, kissing her forehead. Then withdrawing back, she surveyed Maggie’s expression. “You going to be okay with them leaving?” Dani asked.

“It’s what has to happen.” She answered, knowing it wasn’t really an answer, but it was the only one she was prepared to give at the moment.

Dani nodded knowingly. “I’ll be around tomorrow afternoon. Let me know if you need me to bring any emergency ice cream, or what have you. I am here for you.”

“Thank you, Dani. You’re the best.” Maggie rose on her toes and kissed Dani’s cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Dani smiled. “I can see what you see in him.” She paused, “and I think I see what we both see in you.”

At this, Maggie cracked a tentative smile. “I expect a full post-op report on that after we’ve had a bit of sleep and time to think on that.”

“Of course,” Dani said, leaning down to kiss her again. “I’ll let you know when I’ve made it home safely.”

“Yeah. Please.” Maggie sighed.

“Have a good night, my love.” Dani smiled.

“You too. Drive safe.”

Dani let herself out, and Maggie watched her get into her car and drive away before she returned to the living room where Bucky and Sam were talking in low toned and immediately stopped as she entered the room.

“Well, I hope you two had fun,” Maggie said brightly. “I know Dani did.”

“We did. Or I did.” Sam said, glancing at Bucky. “How about you, metal man?”

Bucky shook his head with a chuckle but then nodded, “I did.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

“She’s really wonderful Mags,” Sam said.

“I’m glad you’ll have her around when we—” Bucky cut himself off as if unwilling to bring that dark shadow back into their lives.

But Maggie knew there was nothing for it, and there was no use in trying to avoid that which was rapidly arriving, not when they still had so much to do. “So. Tomorrow morning?” She asked with a sigh, slumping down onto the couch beside Sam.

“We’ve been ordered to report for a debrief to account for the events of Steve’s disappearance,” Sam explained.

“Ah.” Maggie nodded, “And the Accords?”

“There was mention of a deal,” Sam said.

“And you trust that?” Maggie asked, trying not to sounds too incredulous.

“No,” Bucky answered flatly.

“But it’s better than going back on the run,” Sam concluded.

“So. Limited contact.”

“For now. Yeah. You have my burner number in case, yes?” Sam asked.

“Yes.” Maggie nodded.

Sam sighed, rubbing his face and the top of his head. “Good, good.” He nodded. “I’m going to check in with my mom, make sure she and the girls got back safe, and get ready for tomorrow.” Sam glanced at her and Bucky, “you two kids behave all right?”

“We’ll probably turn in soon as well. It’s been a long day today, and I suspect a longer day tomorrow.”

“Okay. Well, good night.” Sam said, giving her a quick hug. Nodding at Bucky as they parted, Sam went up the stairs and to his room, the door shutting behind him with a click.

“You can head on up if you’d like. I know you probably have to pack.” Maggie said, turning to Bucky. “I have a few things to put away down here.”

“I can help. We’ll go up together.”

Maggie nodded, and they both moved around the kitchen, cleaning away the last of dinner before they both mounted the stairs and returned to her room. Closing the door behind them, Maggie changed into her nightshirt and shorts before curling up on the foot of the bed to watch as Bucky started gathering up his possessions.

This was familiar in a way she hadn’t expected. It was like the nights Riley had packed for his tour. It also felt somewhat like that day she and Bucky had packed their go-bags in Wakanda, though without out the frantic uncertainty involved with their evacuation. Still, neither of them spoke, Bucky focused on what he was doing, and Maggie allowed him the silence so he could think in peace.

Then, she caught the faint sound of Bucky humming. Listening closely, she smiled as she realized it was the melody to ‘Time of our Lives.’ “Did you enjoy the movie?” Maggie asked.

“As you said, it was _educational_.” Bucky chuckled. “But I did enjoy the evening. The sock slide was particularly fun.”

“I’m glad you had fun.”

“I did.”

Maggie paused, trying to find a way to phrase what she was going to say without putting too much of a damper on the mood. “Not a bad way to end our perfect moment, huh?” Maggie chuckled but grew serious again as she saw Bucky’s expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…it’s just…well with you leaving tomorrow,” She stammered out.

“It’s not that.” Bucky shook his head as he joined her on the bed. “I think we were wrong about the perfect moment,” Bucky said shortly. “ _I_ was wrong.”

“Oh?”

“Moment, it implies singular. It limits the possibility of other perfect moments. For _future_ perfect moments.” Bucky continued.

“The future.” Maggie hummed. She liked that thought, liked the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. “And now we have paths to forge and lives to live now, unlike in Wakanda. But what’s best is that we’ll get to come together and have other perfect moments together.”

“And you’ll keep me up to date on all of the stuff going on here, right?”

She had to smile at how earnest his question was. “V-mail from the home front?”

“Something like that.” He murmured with a low chuckle.

“What would you want to hear about?”

“Everything, anything you wanted to share.”

“Good and bad?”

“And everything in between.”

“Well,” Maggie hesitated, “I wouldn’t want to worry you when you’re out there.” And that was true. She had very specifically NOT included anything too heavy or worrisome in her letters to Riley and Sam back in the day, or even in her messages to Sam while she was in Wakanda.

“It’ll be hard. But I’d rather share in _everything_.”

“So that you don’t come back and find that everything’s gone to shit?”

“I have the utmost faith in you, and your crew and your kids, and Dani.” Bucky smiled. “It won’t go to shit.”

“I appreciate that.” With that, she felt a heaviness drop over her for the first time all day, and she sighed. “I’m going to miss you, Bucky.”

“I know, doll. I’m going to miss you too.” He answered, kissing her gently.

“How long do you think it’ll take to get settled in?”

“A few months.” He paused, apprehension in his voice.

“What?”

“Provided they don’t haul me off to jail first.”

“Oof.” Maggie grimaced.

“It’s one of several possibilities.” He continued.

“For what it’s worth, I think if they were going to haul you off to jail, they would’ve tried something by now.” Maggie took a deep breath. “But. They know what it took last time to flush you out of hiding, and they also know that you’d be a better ally than an enemy.”

“That’s a logical conclusion.” He nodded. “I…just…be careful, Mags. I’ll do my best, and I’m sure that Sam will do his best too to keep your name out of most of this, but…well.”

“Risks. I know. But fortunately, I have two superheroes on speed dial, and I’m a graduate of the ‘Natasha Romanoff School of Survival Skills for Idiot Civilians,’ and I passed with flying colors.”

“You did get shot.”

“I didn’t _die._ Did I?” She tried to laugh it off, if only to downplay how serious it had been and how scary the entire situation was in relation to where they were now.

“I’d rather not have any other close calls.”

“Me too.” Maggie chuckled, sighing as she relaxed against him.

“We’ll just have to be careful. All of us.”

“Mmmhh Hmmm.” She nodded. “You’ll have to find your way back to me, Bucky Barnes, so we can have many, many more perfect moments together. All of us together.”

“I’ll come back. I’ll find my way back home to you, Mags.” He breathed. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They held one another for a long time, planting gentle kisses on one another’s skin and murmuring about Wakanda and the future, and whispering reassurances of their mutual love and affection. Maggie knew she must have dozed off, but it wasn’t a deep sleep as she focused on the steady, familiar rhythm of his beating heart, trying to memorize every detail for later.

She stayed still, or as still as she could manage, hoping that she didn’t keep Bucky awake. He would need all of his strength for the coming days, and she wouldn’t deprive him of a solid, restful night’s sleep.

Then, the next thing she knew, her alarm was going off, and they both jerked into a sitting position, trying to blink the sleep out of their eyes. Maggie yawned, stretching as she turned off the alarm, trying to shake the groggy, dazed feeling surrounding her.

“You get any sleep?” Bucky asked groggily.

“Some. How about you?”

“About the same.”

They both sighed, pausing, and cocking their heads as they heard Sam’s alarm go off as well. It was then that she looked over at Bucky, who was very quietly combing his fingers through his hair, his expression fixed and slightly distant as he gazed off into one of the far corners of the room.

“Nervous?” She asked gently.

“Wary.” He replied, turning his head to meet her gaze. “Will you help me get ready?”

“Of course.” She nodded.

They rose, Bucky removing the prosthesis from its case and handing it to her before slipping the cap from the joint. Carefully attaching the prosthesis, Maggie kissed the base of his neck, where metal met flesh, before letting go of the metal limb. Before she could step back, he caught her hand, and he tiled his head up toward her, their eyes meeting. “Thank you, Mags, for taking this journey with me.”

Maggie nodded, “We’re a long way from that first morning I found in you in the barn. I’m glad we made it here.”

“You helped me find myself. Helped me figure out who I am and what I want. And now you’ve given me a home and a family to come back to. You’ve done more for me than I could ever possibly repay.”

“And it was worth it, James Barnes. All of it.” She murmured. “You just have to come back to me.”

“That’s the plan,” Bucky said.

“Good.”

They looked at one another, each of them memorizing the faces of the other, and they passed a quiet moment like that. Then, Bucky let go of her hand, and they both rose, neither of them saying anything further as they dressed and paired for the day, Bucky closing up his backpack with a definitive zip.

Walking downstairs, they found Sam already waiting in the living room. “Do you guys want to take breakfast to go, or is there time for a last meal with me?” She asked, hopefully, though she knew the question was in vain, and she was just playing for more time.

Sam and Bucky glanced at one another before Sam said, “We appreciate the offer, but we should probably get going now.”

“Oh. Okay.” Maggie replied, doing her best not to sound too disappointed. She just hadn’t realized how little time they had left and how much she just wanted them to stay with her, forever. “But you’re not leaving without a hug.”

“Well then, come here, Mags,” Sam answered gently, and Maggie crossed the room to bury herself in his embrace.

It was strong and warm, and very fundamentally Sam, and she found tears ready to form just behind her eyes and in her throat as she held him to her. “I’m going to miss you,” She managed with a ragged breath.

“I’m going to miss you too.”

Maggie squeezed her eyes shut. “ _Please_ be safe. And try to let me know that you’re doing all right when you can.” She rushed.

“I will.” Sam said, and she could feel him glance over at Bucky before adding, “We will.”

“And I’ll hold you to it, Samuel Wilson.” She said, pulling away. “Try to avoid anything that might get you in the headlines. At least for a little while as you settle into this whole Captain America business, yes?”

“I’ll do my best, but no promises.” He chuckled. “Also, remember Luis is going to call you today to set up a time to install your security system. He’s good people, but…can be a lot…so just be aware.”

“I appreciate the heads up.”

“Be good, kid.”

“Kid? Really?” She smiled. “I will try, but you know me.”

“I do. That’s what worries me.” He said, reaching back in for another hug.

They embraced, harder and longer this time, and when they parted again, Sam cleared his throat, reaching down to pick up his backpack and the leather shield case. “I’m going to step out to load my stuff into the car and make some last-minute arrangements and phone calls.” He glanced between her and Bucky. “Five minutes?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered.

Sam nodded and walked from the living room and out through the front door. She and Bucky waited for the front door to close behind him before turning to one another. “You have all the information for the P.O. Box and my burner cell, right?” Bucky asked.

“Yes.”

“And you have everything you need here? The kids are going to come over later for dinner, right?”

“Spaghetti night isn’t for a few days, but I am going to see Sara and Diego this evening.” She answered.

“Good. Good, I’m glad.” He nodded a tightness in his voice from the tension he was holding in his chest. “There might be things we missed. As they come up, let me know, and I’ll do what I can to help you patch a potential breach or oversight.”

“We have our contingencies and a team I can rely on to help me out.” She paused, glancing him up and down.

As shitty as she felt about them leaving, Bucky looked worse, worried, concerned, uncertain. Which, oddly, she didn’t feel any of. She felt confident. Concerned about their well being, sure, but her life would continue on as it had before almost 4 billion people had popped back into the world. _She_ was going to be okay. “I’m going to be all right, you know.”

“I know.”

“You and Sam have to watch each other’s backs out there. You don’t need to be distracted worrying about me.” She smiled gently. “I got along for five years without you two. I’ll be just fine. I can survive this.” Then, the lump in her throat seized as she said, “Just don’t wait that long to come back around again, okay?”

“You have my word, doll.”

“Good.”

There was a beat of silence, and then they crossed the room and embraced. Bucky held her tight, and she just savored it, unwilling to mar the moment with the unspoken what-ifs that were present, floating around them, all of the variables and unknowns of their situation. But Bucky had said he would come back to her, so she would have to trust him to keep his word. After all, the apocalypse hadn't been able to keep him away permanently. Everything else now was just in the details.

“I love you, Mags.”

“I love you too, Bucky.” She breathed as they held one another close, knowing how their short time was quickly running out. Then, as they pulled away, Bucky’s hair fell around them, and she smiled. “Do you have a hair tie for that majestic mane of yours, James Barnes?”

“No—I—”

“Here.” She cut him off as she removed the hair tie from around her wrist. “You can borrow it, for now, I can’t imagine trying to fight with all that hair in your face.”

“I’ll make sure to bring it back with me.” He answered firmly as he took the tie and slipped it onto his right wrist. “Thank you.”

“Always.”

There was a pause, and Maggie knew it was time. They’d said all that needed to be said, and now all that remained to be said was goodbye. “Will you walk me out?” He asked, his voice small.

“Yes.” She nodded.

They moved as one down the hall to the front door. Her brain screaming at her that there was something else she needed to say, some reassurance she needed to give before they parted. Reaching the front door, she put her hand on the doorknob, placing herself between the door and outside where Sam was waiting. “Hey, Bucky.” She said slowly, his gaze meeting hers.

“Yeah, doll?” Now she could hear there was a lump in his throat.

“Whatever happens next, we’re going to be okay.”

The words came out of her mouth before she could second guess them. They were the same or nearly the same, words that he’d said to her before they’d parted last time. Only then he’d said ‘you,’ or rather that ‘she’ would be okay. It was that sentence, those final parting words in a moment of panic and chaos that had gotten her through the dark days after the Battle of Wakanda. Now, it was her turn to say the same thing, in these final moments before parting, to remind him that everything would be okay. She would see to it that it was.

He nodded, the slightest of smiles lighting up his eyes before the smile grew and spread over his lips as he said, “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

Maggie didn’t roll her eyes or even laugh and instead rose to kiss him, Bucky cradling her head with his hands as they kissed. Then, as she pulled away, keeping her face close to his, she chuckled, “I thought that was my line.”

“Your line?” Bucky furrowed his brow, “I thought I was Rick.”

“No. You’re Ilsa. I’m Rick.” She laughed, planting another quick kiss before rocking back down onto her heels as a furrow formed between his brows.

“Wait, does that make Sam Victor Lazlo?”

“Maybe? Does it?” She grinned.

He shook his head with a wry smile. “Now, wouldn’t that be a hell of a thing?”

“It would be.” Maggie agreed. “Think on the metaphor, and we can all talk about it at length next time we watch Casablanca.”

“Deal.” Bucky nodded, putting his hand on top of hers. “But I think it’s time.”

Maggie sighed, also nodding. “Let’s not keep Sam waiting.”

They opened the front door and proceeded out into the early morning light. Bucky descended the front steps and placed his go-bag into the trunk before he and Sam circled back around where she was standing on the front porch. “I take it a ‘let me know when you’ve made it safely’ text is out of the question, huh?”

“We’ll let you know we’re safe when we can.” Sam said, giving her a quick hug.

“Sounds good. Be safe.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam chuckled.

“And don’t kill one another either.” She added as she gave Bucky a quick hug.

“We’ll do our best not to.” Bucky assured her earnestly as they parted.

They both stepped away, walking down the front steps. They stopped and turned, looking back up at her a moment. “I love you both. Take care. We’ll talk soon.” Maggie said firmly.

They nodded, chorusing, “We’ll talk soon.” Before they climbed into the car.

Nodding again at her through the window, Sam started the car, and then they slowly drove down the path toward the main road.

Maggie stood on the porch and watched them in silence as they went, her eyes never leaving the black sedan as it disappeared from sight. Then, when they’d gone out of her field of vision, she turned and went back into the house.

Locking the door behind her, she walked down the hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen.

Standing in the kitchen, Maggie exhaled a long, deep breath, trying to take stock of what she was feeling. Her hands weren’t shaking. Her heart wasn’t pounding. Her mind wasn’t racing. Instead, she found that while her mind did linger with Sam and Bucky and what might be facing them as they drove off into the unknown, mostly her thoughts were turning to what the rest of the day held for her.

Moving to the coffeemaker, she started a pot of coffee before proceeding to the stove to boil water for oatmeal, removing strawberry preserves from the fridge to spoon on top of the oatmeal. This occupied most of her thoughts for a few minutes as she continued about the task of making breakfast and ensuring she had something to eat to start her day off the right way.

Sinking down at the table with her mug of coffee and her bowl of oatmeal topped with strawberry preserves, Maggie pulled her notepad and pencil toward her and started making notes for the tasks of the day.

She paused as her phone buzzed and found a text from Dani, _‘They get off okay?’_

 _‘Yeah. They left about 15 minutes ago,’_ Maggie replied, before watching as Dani typed out her response.

_‘You doing okay?’_

_‘I think so?’_ It was the most accurate response she could think to give. She felt okay, for now. Perhaps that was because it hadn’t quite sunk in that they’d left and wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. Or maybe it was because she knew she had a busy day ahead of herself and couldn’t let herself get bogged down in what she was feeling. Either way, Maggie would likely feel it later, but when she did, she knew she’d have people around her who understood at least some of what she was going through. _‘I’ll probably need to text Becky to set up an appointment soon regardless.’_

 _‘That sounds like a good plan.’_ Dani agreed. _‘I can come over tonight if you’d like.’_

_‘Thanks. Diego and Sara are coming over later, but if you and Alejandra would like to come by too, the more, the merrier.’_

_‘I’ll be sure to let you know. I just don’t want you to be alone. I know what they mean to you.’_

_‘Thank you, Daniella.’_

_‘I love you, Mags.’_

_‘I love you too, Dani. Send my best to Alejandra.’_

_‘I will have a good day. We’ll talk soon.’_

_‘Talk soon.’_

Maggie set down her phone, eating a few spoonfuls of oatmeal absentmindedly as the activities and chores, and comings and goings of the day ahead played out in her mind. It would be strange not to have Bucky around, but no stranger than the last week and a half had been with his presence in her life. She was going to miss him and Sam. The dinner table would be incomplete without the both of them, and the evenings perhaps a bit quieter than she’d want for a little while. But this wasn’t permanent. It wasn’t forever. They would find their way back to her. All that remained was for her to keep going. Not just going, she had to keep learning, and growing, and changing, and moving forward, just as she’d told Bucky she’d wanted him to do.

_Whatever you do, don’t stand still, don’t stagnate, don’t rot._

And she knew they wouldn’t. He and Sam were off to help the world remake itself. In the process, perhaps, Bucky would find a way to internal peace and closure for the life he had lived as the Winter Soldier. For her part, too, she had her corner of the world to protect, serve, and help in the wake of so much change, instability, and uncertainty.

One step, one moment, one breath, one choice, one day at a time, they would remake the world and themselves. 

Maggie sighed, setting down her spoon. She rubbed her face and glanced down at the to-do list. Judging by the length of her list, it was time for her to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they're out the door! Ooof. I can't tell you how hard it was to write Sam and Bucky leaving Mags to go back out there to resume the superhero life. Originally I had tried to cram ALL of this into ch 11, but with an additional chapter I got to give them a more measured and considerate send off. BUT! As has been repeated by Dani, Mags, Bucky, and Sam (in their various ways), it's not about leaving, it's about making sure that you come back! We have one more chapter, and I cannot wait to share it with you (once it gets written) and to finally finish out this series. 
> 
> ALSO, I don't know if y'all are screaming about the trailer for the Falcon and the Winter Soldier, but I know that I was. It is my hope that this ending here, and the events of the next chapter keep Mags, the farm, and her life with Bucky just on the edges of the screen, but if not, I think I can safely say this has been a very fun exercise, and I personally can't see what sort of growing and learning and Living Bucky gets up to in the series! BUT as I said before, we get another chapter with Bucky, Mags, and the Gang, and I hope you enjoy the ending to the series.
> 
> I hope that you are staying safe in this COVID season and that you have a healthy and safe holiday season. Until next time, Happy Reading!


	13. Finding Your Way Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don’t Sue me! This is the sequel to 'In the Here and Now’ and is Part IV of IV of my “Find Your Way Home” Series. So if you’re confused, that’s why.
> 
> Recommended Listening: Shelter from the Storm by Bob Dylan; As long As the Grass Shall Grow by Johnny Cash; As Time Goes By, by Dooley Wilson; At the Beginning by Richard Marx & Donna Lewis
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ayENXPUHtyvZCpTi38MX6?si=YFRZjqfnTDi_eU68jrIn7g
> 
> It started on a Friday, and now it only seems fitting that it should end on a Friday too! I hope you all enjoy! Thank you for taking this journey with me!

It had been almost seven months since Bucky and Sam had left One More Chance, not that Maggie was counting, and it had been surprisingly hard. Well, not half the population disappearing hard, but harder than she'd expected it to be.

It had been hard watching the news and wondering what role Bucky and Sam had played. Hard not knowing if they were safe. Hard wondering if they were ever going to make it back to her. Hard missing them, and knowing that they were probably missing her too.

Yet, as hard as it was, she, and Sam, and Bucky had planned for this, and in the months following Sam and Bucky's departure back out into the world, Maggie had brought Dani, and the kids into the know for what to do should the worst happen. And while sharing this knowledge had helped ease some of the load, and although it was still difficult for her to stomach, Maggie was proud of Sam and Bucky for going back out into the fray when things were complicated and difficult and dangerous.

That pride, and the assurance that they were doing the right thing, made it easier for her. It made the burden less difficult to bear. And burdensome though it was at times, it was made all the easier knowing that she wasn't alone in the adjustment and that Dani, her kids, and her friends all _knew_ that a part of her was out there with them, even if just in her thoughts.

Of course, she wasn't completely without contact from them. She _did_ hear from them. For a bit, while Sam and Bucky had spent a bit of time training, unofficially, down south, she'd gotten frequent phone calls from Sam's mother. This had consisted of a lot of obtuse discussion from Darlene about her kids, their friends, and a lot of hoping everyone was well on Maggie's end. When eventually Sam and Bucky had gone beyond Darlene's sight, they exchanged letters through the P.O. Box Bucky had set up and used the code they’d established.

She sent a letter nearly every week, keeping them up to date about the farm's comings and goings. How the after-school program was doing, how the kids were, about Dani and Alejandra, and all of the important moments and milestones in their lives.

Sara had graduated and gone off to college to work on a degree in social work. Bianca got a promotion, and Ava Maria had started kindergarten. Diego graduated with his technical degree and was now looking to go back to school part-time to get his bachelor's in business while he worked to get hands-on experience so that he could open his own and operate his own workshop. Alecia had also finished up her basics and was now going to school full time to get her nursing degree.

Alejandra and Dani had moved out to the farm after the brief adjustment post blip. It was nice having them around the house with her. As it had turned out, Alejandra had grown up in the San Antonio area, and she and Maggie actually had quite a bit in common. Which came as no surprise considering they were both Dani's partners, but all the same, they'd quickly become firm friends. After a few months of watching how she ran the farm, Alejandra had offered her help and expertise with her background in Plant Science and a Master's in Business administration. With the job market being for shit in the post blip world and Maggie knowing that the farm needed to expand, she gladly accepted Alejandra's help. Over the following months, they had drafted a sensible business plan for the farm and after-school program.

So, Maggie was able to fill her letters with good news, progress, and reassurance that she and everyone else on the farm were doing okay in their absence. And as she had promised Bucky, she included not just the good in the letters, but everything in between. Her hopes, dreams, fears, the ups and downs of running a farm, and the trials of wrangling children. Yet, more than anything, she wanted Bucky and Sam to know that they had people who cared about them and that there was a place for them to return to when they were able if they wanted.

In return, Maggie received a letter about once a month from what she, Dani, and Ali had started referring to vaguely as _The Front._ The letters were short, normally just assurances that they were doing well, alive, healthy, mostly unscathed, and that they were glad for the good news about the family and farm and the comings and goings of her life. There were occasional references to other people in the sphere of their existence. Sharon Carter (for instance) made an appearance in a few of the letters, though Maggie had worked the cipher two or three times the first time the name appeared just to make sure she'd gotten it right. There had also been hints at the undercurrents of politics and how that was shaping their lives.

 _Politics._ There was always politics going on. It, of course, hadn't been hard to _guess_ at exactly what those politics were when Captain America had been announced, and it _hadn't_ been Sam. He'd warned her about that, warned her that there was going to be tension, uncertainty, and well… frankly … a fight about who Captain America was, and furthermore, _what_ Captain America meant.

So, Sam's comments, and her own instincts, had given her the basic shape of the problem, and of what was yet to come for him, and likely for Bucky too. With that information, she'd been able to piece together a good idea of what was going on in their world and why they were absent from her life.

Their work was dangerous, necessary, but dangerous, and so they were doing the right thing by maintaining distance so that their work wouldn't spill over into her own.

All the same, she cherished each letter she received, and every scrap of news she could dig up, or was given by the barrage of people who cared about her and her two idiot superheroes, and found herself flooded with relief every time a new envelope, grubby and heavily handled, appeared for her.

Between those cherished moments of contact, life went on, and she went with it, happy and fulfilled, and loved. The spring had been glorious, and the summer hot and crisp, and then somehow, before she'd known it, the weather had turned chilly, the leaves on the trees had turned from green to vibrant shades of red and gold, and she'd become aware of growing murmurs. She was turning thirty-nine this year, which, while not a 'Big Birthday' necessarily was an accomplishment, and in the face of half the population returning, Dani, Ali, her kids, and the volunteers of One More Chance Farm had resolved to throw her a birthday party.

Well. More than just _her_ birthday party had been the compromise. They were celebrating the harvest and the return of half the population, and of course, well…also that she'd survived another trip around the sun despite everything the world had tossed at her and everyone else over the past year. And why the hell not? After everything the year had brought them, they deserved to celebrate. 

They drafted the guest list, wrote out menus, sent out invitations, purchased and planned, and prepped for the big day. It was going to be a party of special magnificence, given her previous aversion to celebrating her birthday. Despite herself, she even managed to get caught up in the pre-party fervor.

It was because of this she'd slipped into her latest letter to Bucky and Sam that she was going to have a birthday party on the day of, which had conveniently fallen on a Saturday this year. At the time, Maggie hadn't really thought anything of it. After all, Bucky had wanted to know the comings and goings of the household, and her life and world, and this party _thing_ was central to a number of comings and goings involved. Plus, she figured that they would both be pleased to know that she was actually celebrating her birthday, rather than moping around as she had often done when they'd been around.

Then somehow, as the day had approached, there had been a little flame, a little flicker of _hope_ in the back of her mind that somehow they'd manage to show up, which was ridiculous, considering all of the _shit_ that had been all over the news tangentially related to what they were up to. They probably hadn't even gotten a chance to read her letter, never mind have the time to make a trip out to the middle of nowhere upstate New York for her birthday party.

And try as she might, she tried not to get her hopes up or even admit to herself that she hoped that they would show up. She also tried not to contemplate or think about the irony of the whole situation. She'd spent a good majority of her life _refusing_ to celebrate her birthday, and now when she'd warmed to the idea, two of the people who'd helped her overcome her birthday aversion weren't going to be with her to celebrate.

This was part of it, she reminded herself, they would miss many holidays, birthdays, special occasions, and other important life events by nature of their profession. It wasn't because they wanted to. It was because this was just how things had to be for the moment until conditions changed.

Besides, she hadn't even invited them. She hadn't even put that out into the universe. So why would she expect them to show up anyway?

So the day of the party, she woke, washed, dressed, and tended to the animals, enjoying the crisp cold air of early November, doing her best not to think about disappointed hopes and focus on the positive.

Then Mike, Mitchel, and Diego arrived mid-morning to dig the pit and light the fire for the goat they were going to spit-roast over the coals. Maggie naturally hovered around the preparations trying to help but was unceremoniously shooed away by Mike and Mitchel, who insisted that she didn't need to help. After all, it was her birthday. Or so they reminded her.

When the evening chores were done, Maggie headed back up to the house to find Sara and Alecia in the kitchen with Ali and Dani who were prepping large quantities of rice, beans, salsa, salad, guacamole, and tortillas while Bianca and Ava sat at the kitchen table attempting to ice three very large tres leches cake.

"Hey guys, anything I can help with?" Maggie asked, perhaps a bit too brightly. 

"No. You're the birthday girl." Dani answered lovingly as she swooped in and kissed Maggie on the cheek between the fridge in the kitchen and the fridge in the mudroom.

"You can come help us." Bianca offered, taking pity and waving Maggie over to an empty chair beside where Ava-Maria was attempting to ice the cake. "Ava, you wanna show Tia Mags what you're up--"

"Mags, mi amore, I think someone is coming up the front driveway," Dani called, cutting Bianca off.

"What? I thought I told everyone to park down by the barn." Maggie said, rising from her place at the table.

"I see headlights. And I'm finishing up the guacamole. Will you go tell whoever it is that they need to move down to the barn."

"Yeah. I can do that." Maggie answered as she started for the front door. "And as it is, they're super early. We did get the time right on the invi—" Maggie stopped as she wrenched the front door open.

"We heard someone was celebrating a birthday."

Sam barely got the words out before Maggie threw herself at him, nearly tackling him to the ground as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a big hug.

"You're here. You're here. You're really here!" She practically sobbed, holding him tight.

"Hey now, hey now," Sam said as they pulled away. "No crying on your birthday, birthday girl." He teased.

"It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to." She chuckled, wiping away the tears streaking her face, and then paused at the realization that Sam wasn't alone.

Maggie had been so momentarily caught up in the moment upon seeing Sam that she hadn't seen Bucky, standing a few feet away, just at the top of the porch steps.

To be honest, she might not have recognized him at first if not for the grainy snapshots she'd gathered from all the tabloids. His hair was short, and his face covered in short rough stubble. Not the man from Becca's photos, nor the man she'd found in her barn, or the Bucky she'd known in Wakanda. This man was all of them, and none of them, distinctly familiar and wholly remade. Yet, despite it all, Maggie knew he was her's, the man she loved and knew.

"Bucky." Her breath hitched in her chest as she said his name.

"Hey, Mags." He answered gently, but before anything more could be said, they crossed the distance between them and joined in an embrace.

"It’s so good to see you. God, it’s so good to see you.” She breathed, her hands cupping his head at the base of his neck.

“It’s good to see you too, doll,” Bucky murmured with a low chuckle after a moment.

“How? Why? I mean. You could’ve given me a heads up or something.” She stammered out, doing her best to remain coherent even as her brain short-circuited. This was impossible. They were off being superheroes. They didn’t…they just...they couldn’t…it just wasn’t.

“We didn’t want to disappoint you if something came up and we couldn’t make it,” Bucky explained gently.

“And we figured it would be a good surprise for the woman who hates celebrating her birthday,” Sam added.

Maggie nodded with a watery laugh but stopped as Sam and Bucky’s heads turned on a swivel toward the doorway. Following their gaze, Maggie found the whole family (minus Diego, Mitchel, and Mike) standing in the entry hall, Dani at the front with an expression of amused bewilderment.

“Well, mi amore, are you going to bring them inside or just keep them standing outside on the porch like a couple of lost strays?” Dani asked.

“Are we implying that they are not, in fact, a couple of lost strays?” Maggie said with a broad grin as she sidestepped, allowing them a clear path into the house.

“Appreciate the implication, Mags,” Sam said, as he passed through the threshold, pecking her on the cheek

“Good to see you too, Sammie,” Maggie answered, just barely snagging Bucky’s hand. She smiled up at him, squeezing his hand three times, and he returned the gesture.

Bucky said nothing, smiling softly at her before he kissed her forehead. Then slipping his hand from hers, he was swept into the fray of introductions and reintroductions. Maggie stood back, watching the whole scene unfold, wondering _how,_ while trying not to burst into tears and hysterical laughter all at once.

 _They’re here. They’re here. They’re here!_ She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs but prevented herself, but just barely from doing so.

Dani introduced Ali to Sam and Bucky, and the kids went around and gave both Sam and Bucky big hugs, with the exception of Ava-Maria, who very adamantly was sticking to her post at the kitchen table to ice the cake. Sam and Bucky congratulated Bianca and Sara and Alecia on their accomplishments and asked about her and Ali’s horticultural endeavors. Maggie looked on, smiling so big and so wide that she thought her face might stick that way. Not only had they received her letters, but they’d read them and had cared enough to remember their contents. But what’s more, they were here, they were home, and now they were all going to get to celebrate her first birthday since the blip all together, as a family.

“Hey, Mags?” Maggie turned to Sam, the wave of activity ebbing to a low hum as Dani shooed the family back into the kitchen to resume party prep.

“Sammie?” She answered.

“You wouldn’t mind if I commandeered one of your showers, would you? I’d like to clean up a bit before the party.” He explained.

“No, not at all. Make yourself at home.” She answered. “I’ll be—”

“She needs to start getting ready for the party. We have everything down here taken care of.” Dani interjected from where she stood in the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.

“I—” Maggie stammered, trying to find a way to protest.

“Bucky, Sam, take her upstairs with you to shower and change. She’s been trying to help with the party preparation all day.” Dani continued.

“Magdalene Ramirez, refusing to let someone do something nice for her? Now, who would’ve guessed?” Sam teased with a broad grin.

“I-It’s-you--”

“Come on, doll. Let’s get you ready for your party.” Bucky urged gently, taking her by the hand.

Maggie gaped and stammered, trying to find something that might convince the three of them that she’d be perfectly happy helping prepare for her party, but she knew it was no use. Glancing back over her shoulder as Bucky and Sam directed her down the hall back toward the stairs, Maggie caught sight of Dani, who stood watching with a broad grin. ‘Go!’ She mouthed.

Maggie was fighting a losing battle. How could she win when Dani had the whole might of the household, Bucky, Sam, AND the fact that it was her birthday on her side? So, she went without protest, her brain feeling like spun sugar, trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened. She was imagining this, right? This was a hallucination borne out of a desire to see them, right?

But glancing down at Bucky’s hand grasping hers and then looking back at Sam, who trailed behind them up the stairs, Maggie knew this was real.

“So, how was the drive in?” She managed as they walked up the stairs.

“Uneventful.” Sam shrugged.

“Good. Good.” Maggie nodded. “And how long do I have you for? Is this a weekend pass or a 24-hour pass off base?” She continued, trying to find the most neutral way to ask how much time she was going to get.

“We’re on call, but Sharon said she’d only call if it was something she couldn’t handle,” Bucky answered.

“And there’s not much she can’t handle,” Sam added.

Maggie had to fight back a sudden surge of disappointment, unwilling to spoil the little time she had with them with the feeling of wanting more. Instead, she rallied magnificently to quip, “I bet if she’s dealing with you two on the regular.”

“You two would get along,” Bucky commented dryly.

“Because of our ability to deal with you two or because of our winning personalities?” Maggie asked as they came to the top of her stairs, flashing a broad smile to ease the earnest furrow in Bucky’s brow.

“Uhh. Yes?”

“Definitely Yes.” Sam chorused.

“Handsome and smart today, I see.” She laughed, stopping to remove towels from the linen closet and handing one to each of them. “Sam, you know the way.”

“Yes, I do.” Sam nodded with a cheeky grin before he peeled off toward the bathroom.

Then without further discussion, she and Bucky continued to the master bedroom. Letting Bucky enter first, Maggie shut the door after them, and as she did, there was a pause. For a long moment, they just looked at one another, a simultaneous release of a breath neither of them had realized they’d been holding for almost seven months.

“Hi,” Maggie said weakly.

“Hi.” Bucky echoed

“I—I—I can’t believe you’re here.” She stammered, trying to fight back the tears of sheer joy and relief.

“I did say I’d come back when I could,” He said.

“And here you are.” She paused. “I’ve missed you. Did my letters—”

“Yes,” He nodded, “They were wonderful.” Bucky faltered as he slid his backpack from his shoulder, and removing his gloves he unzipped the middle compartment, removing a bundle of letters secured together with her hair tie.

Maggie put her hands to her mouth, barely stifling a gasp. He’d kept them. He’d kept all of them, and judging from their condition, it looked as though they’d been heavily handled, read, and re-read. “I thought you’d want them. For safekeeping.” He explained.

“Sentimental pack rat?” She chuckled, a new crop of tears creating pressure just behind her eyes.

“Or something like that.” He nodded, extending them to her.

“Or something like that.” She repeated, stepping forward to take the bundle with both hands. Their fingers brushed as she took them, and she looked up into his earnest, serious expression, his bright, vibrant blue eyes shining as he watched her. “I hope you _liked_ them.”

“I was only sorry I couldn’t write more.” He admitted. There was a pause before he continued, “It was tough for a while. A lot of shit going on. The letters were a nice reminder of normal. Of _home._ ”

Home.

 _Home._ Maggie nodded firmly, swallowing hard. She looked down at the bundle of letters, her fingers playing with the hair tie, trying to get a hold of herself. But he’d said it. He’d said the letters had reminded him of _home,_ and she felt a dam she’d built of tension and uncertainty break. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, but she’d been afraid that he’d never come back. For all of his promises and reassurances, it would make sense for him to move on. Their worlds were so different. What could she possibly give him that he couldn’t get out there?

A Home. His home. Their home.

“I love you, James Barnes.” She managed, her voice thick with tears.

“I love you too, Magdalene Ramirez.”

And taking a step, they closed the gap. Maggie threw her arms around his neck, Bucky wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. She could hear him exhale a shaking breath as he buried his face in her hair. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.” Maggie breathed into him, tears streaming as she held him tight. “And I’ve been so worried about you both.”

“I know. I know.” He soothed. “I’ve missed you too. _We’ve_ missed you too.”

As she looked up at him, he cupped her face with his hands, dabbing away the tears that slipped down her cheeks with his thumbs, the metal of the prosthetic hand surprisingly warm to the touch as he held her head between both palms.

“But you’re here now.” She managed, trying to get control of herself again.

“But we’re here now.” Bucky agreed. Leaning in, he kissed her gently.

Maggie exhaled into the kiss, returning and deepening it, and she could feel relief in his kiss, and they breathed one another in, basking in the feel of the other person.

Pausing at the sound of the bathroom tap down the hall being turned on with a loud rattling squeak, they both chuckled, managing a couple of soft, quick kisses, before taking a step back. “We don’t have _that_ kind of time, I’m afraid, Bucky Barnes.” She murmured with a coy smile.

“A shame.” He said, returning her smile with a knowing smile of his own.

“It is.” She chuckled, pecking him on the cheek. “Would you like to shower together? It’ll save time, water, and we’ll get to talk more that way.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan, doll.” He said, pecking her cheek before he moved his backpack to the bed, shrugging off his peacoat, and placing it carefully beside his backpack. He turned to her, now with a look of hesitance as he glanced between his hands, which were both out in front of him, and her.

“Two armed Barnes is fine, James.” She said, quickly placing the letters on the side table and returning to his side, taking his hands in hers. Two armed, one-armed, didn’t matter. She was just glad to have him and to be able to touch him, talk to him, hear him say her name. “Now come on.” Maggie smiled. “We have a shower to take.”

Gently she led Bucky toward the bathroom as they kissed and nipped at one another while working buttons and zippers, and closures, laughing and cursing as they tripped over their pants on their way. When they were shut into the small space, Maggie turned on the tap, letting the hot water form steam in the air around them before she turned to admire Bucky as they stood there, waiting for the water to heat up, her brain trying to fully comprehend that he was here, that he and Sam both were here.

He was looking into the washbasin mirror, his right hand wiping away condensation from the reflective surface, his eyes focused on his reflection as he did, his left hand pulling at his hairline a moment.

“Looking for something?”

“Had to have some stitches put in after a rough mission.” He explained, “Wanted to make sure it had healed completely.” Bucky stopped, turning to face him. “I’m fine. It wasn’t anything serious.” He added with a slight rush.

“That’s good.” Maggie nodded, approaching, she rose on her toes, putting her hand on the back of his neck to guide his head toward her so she could kiss the place he’d been searching just a moment before. “I probably would’ve heard about it if it was. The news and tabloids were very useful helping me keep tabs on you two.” She continued, rocking back down onto the flats of her feet. “I like your new hair.” She said, ruffling his hair, her fingers playing with the fine baby hairs at his neck.

“Thank you.” Bucky returned her smile softly. “I figured it was time to let some of him go.”

But of course. They’d talked about this when talking about her own hair cut. Hair being apart of your old self, your old identity, holding onto your old trauma and grief. And something inside of Maggie relaxed or at least unclenched marginally. “Was it hard to let him go?”

“It was—” He stopped to contemplate his word choice. “Necessary. To help me move forward.”

Forward movement. Change. Growth. Healing. That was all she’d wanted for Bucky, all she’d hoped for when he’d left her back in early May. And she’d worried, somewhat, that he would just slip back into being a gun for hire, being an assassin, only this time for the U.S. government. The “Good Guys.” But what she’d seen on T.V., and then his comment just then, he was working to move forward, move beyond what he’d been made to do by Hydra, and transform himself into someone new.

“I do miss the beard.” She teased, moving her hand to his face, her thumb running along his jawline. “But I can get used to the stubble.”

“Thank you for your kind and generous accommodation, Mags.” He said, leaning in and kissing her.

“For you, James Barnes, always.” She laughed with a quick kiss before they both stepped into the steaming shower.

“So, how’s work been?” She asked, lightly as she could manage, trying to imagine what _other_ people might talk about in such circumstances.

“Been interesting getting back into the game…so to speak.” He admitted before they both dropped into silence as they focused on applying shampoo to their hair.

“An adjustment or old hat?”

“Yes.”

“Ahh. Gotta love that.”

“As I said…it’s been interesting.”

Vagaries. She was used to that from the old days. After all, Sam and Riley’s _exact_ purpose and the tech they’d used hadn’t been common knowledge. It still wasn’t common knowledge. So this back and forth in general terms was something familiar, even if she hated it with her whole being.

“I’ll bet it was. It was interesting watching the news and seeing how and in what ways you two made headlines.” Maggie paused, “I thought I told you two not to make headlines for a little while.” She chuckled before leaning back into the stream of water to rinse out her hair.

“Yes.” Bucky continued once she could hear him again. “But you also failed to mention that Sam’s as impulsive and reckless as Steve ever was.”

At this, she laughed, turning to face him. “I suppose I just figured you were smart enough to work that one out on your own.”

“Appreciate that.” Bucky rolled his eyes before taking his turn under the water to remove the shampoo from his now incredibly short hair. “So what you’re saying then.” He said as he removed his head from the stream, “Is that between you, Sam, and Riley, you’re the least impulsive, brazenly rash of the bunch?”

“Look. I know my past of harboring of the Winter Soldier and trying to track him down before going on the run and nearly being killed by the cartels doesn’t lend itself to helping my case here.” Maggie stopped to take a breath.

“But?” Bucky teased.

“ _But,_ James Barnes, I have never jumped out of planes and helicopters with experimental tech strapped to my back into a war zone. NOR have I had the good pleasure of joining any number of superheroes and vigilantes on un-winnable, dare I even say suicidal missions against all manner of villainy. So yeah. I’d say comparatively, yes, I’m the most even-keeled and least impulsive of the bunch.” She said, doing her best to get through the sentence with a straight face.

“Indeed.” Bucky nodded with a hint of a smirk.

“Well, and I’d say you have no reason to complain as you’ve been the benefactor of our rashness.” She said, her grin spreading.

“This is also true.” He said, kissing her.

“I’m glad we agree.” She chuckled, kissing him in return. “Now, will you get my back?”

“Absolutely.”

Maggie handed him the soapy loofa before turning around, allowing him access to her back. It had been nearly seven months, and yet it was like no time had passed. They’d just jumped right back in somehow.

Maybe it was an apparition. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was just because it was her birthday and she was in a good mood for some reason, but this banter, this chatter, this casual exchange between them was something that she’d sorely missed. Rigid and highly encrypted messages just paled in comparison to the ability to have a conversation with the person. And even if he and Sam were called away immediately after she and Bucky got out of the shower, it may just be enough.

“What are you thinking of now?” Bucky asked, breaking his silent concentration as he soaped down her back.

“Oh. I was just thinking how glad I was you two didn’t kill one another out there. Even if he is rash and reckless.” 

At this, Bucky went still, and she turned around to face him, his expression very serious and thoughtful. “It wasn’t so hard, doll. Sam’s a good man, a good leader, a good person. Even if he is a pain in the ass at times.”

Maggie paused, examining his face, and smiled. Was that admiration? Or even affection in Bucky’s voice? Maggie would’ve bet the very large chunk of change Natasha had left the farm that it was. Not that she could blame Bucky if he’d caught feelings for Sam during their adventures over the last six months. He would be in very good company if he had. It was just _nice knowing_ that two men, two people who meant the world to her, might feel something akin to love for one another too.

“What?” Bucky stammered.

“I’m glad he has you watching his back,” She said, kissing him gently.

“He watches mine too,” Bucky replied.

“I’m glad for that.” Maggie smiled, “Now come on, the water is going to turn cold soon, and we have a party to get to.”

“Fair enough.” He conceded.

So, they washed and dried and blow-dried and dressed warmly for the November weather, and as they did, they talked in the vaguest terms about what he and Sam had been up to, and about all the things he couldn’t say in the letters. Maggie stood watching Bucky pull on and lace up his boots. She just tried to soak up the simple pleasure of bathing, dressing, and _being_ in one another’s company after so long. It hadn’t even been all that long. She’d survived longer separations.

Finishing with his boots, Bucky sat up straight and smiled when he saw her watching him. “You doing all right, doll?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She nodded, feeling the tears again. “ I just, thank you for being here for this. Thank you for coming back home to me. And bringing Sam home with you too.” She managed in a single breath. “It means the world to me.”

“I said I’d find my way back when I could,” He said, rising to his feet. “And in truth, we brought one another back. We couldn’t disappoint you, not on your birthday.”

“Well. If it’s any comfort, there was not an expectation that you show up.” She paused as he approached her, “But I am grateful.”She added, chewing on the inside of her mouth.

“Only for you, doll.” He said, gently kissing her. “Now come on. I hear there’s a birthday party going out there for you.”

“So, there is.” She agreed, kissing him on the cheek before stepping away. “It should be good fun.”

“Who all is on the guest list?”

“Dani, Ali, All of the crew, my kids, some of the volunteers, Oh.” Her stomach twisted itself into a knot.

“What?”

“Your nephew James is coming up from NYC for the evening,” Maggie explained, glancing over at Bucky uncertainly. “If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve told you in advance I—”

“Mags. It’s okay.” Bucky shook his head. “I exchanged a few letters with my nephew while Sam and I were down south. He put me into contact with Stephanie, who’s out in Indiana where ma’s family was from originally.”

“Oh.” She exhaled before frowning. “I feel like I should’ve known that.”

Bucky chuckled. “Even after everything, you still don’t know everything about my family and me.” He smiled, kissing the top of her head before removing his gloves from his peacoat and pulling them on. “We should probably get going. We stay up here any longer, and people might think we’re up to no good.”

“Is that a warning or a suggestion, James Barnes?”

“Let's say a bit of both.”

Maggie shook her head but conceded his point, and they walked from the master bedroom and down the stairs toward the living room.

They both stopped as they found Sam, standing all alone in front of the ofrenda. Maggie’s heart immediately seized.

But of course. In addition to being her birthday, it was also Veteran’s Day. She hadn’t forgotten. She’d just been so busy with everything she really hadn’t had a moment to stop to think about it. Now, with Sam and Bucky here, she paused to contemplate a day so near and dear to their hearts.

Back in the day, Sam had gone every year and left a wreath at Riley’s grave. Now, she could see Sam, looking at Riley’s photo, shining out at them from the ofrenda. Frozen in time, the three of them happy and together. After a long while, his gaze moved to the silly selfie Nat had left for Maggie to place on her ofrenda before finally his gaze settled on the photo she’d put up of Steve. All of them soldiers, fighters, friends, lovers. All of them were empty holes in their lives and in their souls, their impact longer lasting than the time they’d spent together. And all at once, Maggie felt the slightest ache between her ribs, thinking about how different their lives were because of those that were missing today, how they had impacted their lives in unspeakable and infinitely unknowable ways.

Maggie glanced up at Bucky to find his expression firm, his gaze fixed on the ofrenda and the man who stood silently in front of them. Then, wordlessly, they moved to Sam’s side, each of them placing a hand on his shoulders. As they did so, Mags could hear Sam take in a sharp breath that hitched in his chest ever so slightly.

It had been a long and hard six months. What little she could know of what Sam and Bucky had gone through, she knew it had been difficult in ways she couldn’t begin to fathom. And it was in that moment that Maggie could feel, perhaps truly for the first time, the weight of the last six months, and the experiences that these two men had shared.

She wanted to know, wanted to understand, and wanted to share those experiences so that she could support them, and help carry the weight they bore. But she couldn’t. That was a part of their lives that she couldn’t partake in, couldn’t understand, for her safety and the safety of everyone she loved, including them. Yet, Maggie also knew that they had one another, and ultimately when it came down to it, that was far more than she could’ve ever asked or hoped for.

Eventually, the moment passed, not a word spoken between them. “Hey,” Sam said as he turned to both of them, look at them as if fully realizing for the first time that they were standing beside him. “I was wondering what you two were doing up there.” He said with a smile, only the slightest of audible lumps in his throat.

“Come on, birthday girl, let's get you to your party,” Sam said with a grin, clapping her on the shoulder, and in doing so he shook off the quiet sober moment. 

Maggie felt that she should protest, or offer some complaint, but found nothing came to mind. Instead, she’d smiled, and grabbing Bucky’s hand, the three of them walked shoulder to shoulder from the house and down the hill together where a celebration of life and love and family and harvest was waiting.

Things were changing. They’d been changing non-stop since May, but for the first time in the longest time, absolutely everything felt right with the world. They wouldn’t have long together, they never had long enough, but tonight, with all of them here together as one strange, complicated, unconventional, big, loud, and perfect family, Maggie felt whole. She felt satisfied and happy and loved. Above all, Maggie knew it was going to be yet another beautiful and perfect moment. One of many they had yet to create and share.

It was strange to think who they’d been that fateful day out in the barn almost ten years ago, broken people trying to make their way in the world. Now, after all, that had happened to them to culminate in tonight was more than she could’ve ever hoped for or dreamed the future might hold for her. The road had been long, and the journey, while far from over, had it’s twists and turns with plenty more yet to come. Yet through it all, she’d returned to this place, she'd found her way back, and in the process had created a home and a family beyond her wildest imagination.

Now it was time to celebrate both what they’d achieved and all that the future might hold.

-

In the early November twilight, the air was chilly as he, Sam, and Mags walked down toward the barn where the party was already in full swing.

Party lights were strung up, and there was music playing over speakers. Picnic benches were assembled, and there was a large open fire where a goat was turning on a spit, with an assortment of men drinking beer gathered around. There were long buffet tables where cold dishes were set out, ice chests loaded with drinks, and a bbq grill smoking. People were playing horseshoes, washers, and darts, and there was a smaller picnic table set up with crafts where a number of children had gathered around, chatting loudly and happily.

Between him and Sam, Mags practically glowed, beaming as she saw the sight sprawling out before them, not an ounce of tension or apprehension anywhere to be found on her person. It was all a sharp contrast to the last birthday he’d spent with her, or even further, the cookout he’d attended long before he could possibly know or comprehend how much this place would mean to him.

Bucky was glad that he and Sam could be here for this.

It had been a long six months since their departure from the farmhouse, that clear, cool morning in May, when they’d watched Mags stand on the front porch, watching them go,like a solemn sentinel sending them off on their journey. It had been hard not knowing what would happen in their absence or how their lives were going to look in a few hours, never minds days, weeks, or months.

Those first few months had been rough. The world was complicated, more complicated somehow than when he’d left it five years before. And so, his return to life as an operative and Sam’s acceptance as the next Captain America had been particularly difficult. Yet, Bucky had never doubted that he’d made the right choice to leave. Despite the complications and the trials and tribulations to match, he never once regretted his choice to go with Sam. To go where he was most needed.

Difficult but necessary is what he’d reminded himself over and over during those first tumultuous months.

Bucky could only imagine how much more difficult it would’ve been for everyone involved if he and Mags hadn’t established safety protocols and a secure method of communication. It hadn’t made the situation easier but had certainly made the weight of it all more manageable knowing Mags and the farm, the family and crew, were all safe from any immediate repercussions of his and Sam’s activities. Likewise, Mags’s letters had provided Sam and Bucky some of the context for why they were doing what they were doing and created a tangible connection to back home, while simultaneously cementing why their distance, secrecy, and discretion was necessary for the moment. Mags had spent the last five years rebuilding her home and her life after a world-ending apocalypse. Just because she wanted him in her life didn’t mean that Bucky wanted to endanger her with the world he and Sam inhabited.

Through her letters, Bucky and Sam had been kept up to date on all of the comings and goings, the gossip and the drama, and the growth and the changes happening in Mags’s life and on the farm. It was nice to hear that everyday life was happening outside of their world politics, superheroes, spies, and assassins and affirming to know that she wasn’t just waiting for him to come back.

Then, Mags had written that Dani, Ali, the kids, and the crew were putting together a birthday party for her, and Bucky knew that whether or not _she_ knew it, Mags wanted them to come. They’d known there would be sacrifices, separation, missed moments, and time, but this felt _important._

In the time he’d known Mags, she’d been avidly anti-birthday celebration. Then during their second November together in Wakanda, he’d found out why, and for his part, he understood that painful memories made things difficult to celebrate. For her to agree to a party, and from the sounds of it, a big party, it was a big step, and one that Bucky felt was important to show up for.

Sam had unsurprisingly agreed. Then, when Sharon had agreed that he and Sam should go, it had all but sealed the deal.

Over the past six months, Sharon had become a firm friend, ally, and partner. With her personal background with the CIA and her intimate familiarity with how bad fall out from having personal and professional lives clash could be, had run through contingencies and fail-safes to make sure that they’d be able to visit Mags for her birthday without risking any unfortunate interruptions _or_ disastrous house visits after the fact.

So, Sam and Bucky had resolved to show up the day of Mags’s birthday unannounced, with Sharon providing necessary intel and support to make this possible. And somehow, they’d made it work. And They were here.

That had been a miracle unto itself, and he’d waited for the other shoe to drop the entire lead up to the day and the entire drive up to the farm. But they were here, and Bucky found he wasn’t entirely sure how to feel. For one, he was relieved they’d made it and glad beyond measure that Mags had been happy they’d come, even if they hadn’t told her they were coming in advance. However, deep in the pit of his stomach, he could feel excitement, curiosity, and anxiety in equal measures twisting and knotting in the pit of his stomach, though he remained uncertain of the exact cause.

“You ready for this?” Mags asked breathlessly as they came up to where people were gathered, chatting loudly with one another.

Bucky glanced down at her and the broad smile on her face, her cheeks slightly pink from the nip of the cold air that wafted around them. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Hey, Wilson! you going to bring the birthday girl over here, or just going to hog her all to yourself?” Bill Davidson’s voice cut through the air.

“We’ll bring her right over for you, Bill,” Sam called back, as they turned to find the old man standing some distance away, drinking a beer near the bbq grill, talking with a man who had their back to them, but that Bucky would recognize anywhere. James Martinez-Proctor, Becca’s eldest child, named for his uncle, named for him.

He’d told Mags he’d be fine meeting his nephew, but now, he felt his stomach twist and knot, and he found himself wondering what the man would think of him now that a lot of his past and dirty laundry had been aired to the world.

“Well, well. What have we here?” Davidson continued as they approached. “Good to see you, son. How have you been?” He asked, dragging Sam into a warm embrace.

“Well, you know, little of this, little of that. You been keeping this one out of trouble?” Sam motioned to Mags as Davidson released him from the embrace.

“Getting too old to keep her in line anymore, but I figure that’s what Dani and Ali are good for. Ain’t that right, birthday girl?” Davison teased as Mags allowed herself to be likewise dragged into an embrace, returning it wholeheartedly with a good-humored eye roll.

“Really going to keep bringing that up, aren’t you, Bill?”

“Not every day you decide to celebrate a birthday.”

“Well, they only come once a year.” She stuck her tongue out as they separated.

“Plus, now she has me chasing after the adopted kids and great-grand baby. So life’s pretty full.” Davidson laughed, pausing as he made eye contact with Bucky for the first time. “Good to see you too, Barnes. Glad you decided to come back after all.”

Bucky glanced between Mags, Sam, Davidson, and James, feeling the weight of his answer in his chest before answering it. “I do try to keep my promises.” He said, glancing over at James, “It just sometimes takes a while.”

“Well, I’m glad you decided to make it back for this.” Davidson continued, extending his hand to him.

“Me too.” Bucky agreed, shaking the man’s hand, matching the man’s firm grip.

There was a pause, and Bucky got the feeling Davidson was sizing him up, but unlike before, it wasn’t an _unkind_ or even unfriendly sizing up, just taking stock, taking the measure of a man who’d threatened and hurt someone they now both cared about deeply.

“Hey, boss! We need your professional opinion over here.” Mike called from the fire pit, breaking the silence that had enclosed their small group.

“Excuse me. Sorry. Y’all behave while I’m gone.” Mags warned with just enough of a laugh to be convincing.

“Well, go on, Birthday Girl.” Davidson shooed as he let go of Bucky’s hand.

They watched her go before Davidson turned to him, glancing between him and James. “So I’ve been told you’re James’s _uncle,_ is that right?”

“Yes, sir, that’s correct,” Bucky answered.

“Not a sir to you, son,” Davidson said. “Turns out Jim and I served a year apart in ‘Nam.”

“Strange how life works out like that,” James agreed with a laugh.

“So what have you been up to, Wilson?” Bill asked, taking Sam by the shoulder and walking away, leaving Bucky and his nephew to talk.

“Bill’s a hand full, isn’t he?” James laughed.

“Yeah. He has good reason to be a little more than suspicious of me.” Bucky conceded as they watched Sam and Davidson chatting a fair distance away.

“Glad you could make it tonight.” James continued. “Good to finally meet you in person.”

“I’m only sorry we couldn’t meet sooner,” Bucky answered.

“We understand,” James replied, we, of course, meaning all of the extended Barnes-proctor clan. The family that Becca had made and forged in the years he’d lost. “We’ve all heard a lot about you.” He added slowly.

 _Understatement of the century._ Bucky couldn’t help but think.

“You look just the way mother always described you.” James paused, contemplatively. “It’s been a pleasure watching your work over the past few months. I think mother would’ve been proud.”

At this, Bucky felt his throat seize in a way he hadn’t anticipated. “Than-thank you.” He managed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be in contact more often.”

“Stephanie said you managed to get a hold of her. Did she put you in touch with everyone else?” 

“She did, but work got a little crazy before I got the chance to follow through,” Bucky said opaquely.

“As it does.” James nodded knowingly as if they were talking about a rough day at the office. “We should try to get together. If not for Hanukkah or Passover, then for Rosh Hashanah next year.” His nephew looked him over. “It would be good for you to meet your family.”

 _Your family._ It was almost more than Bucky could handle hearing, but he nodded graciously before replying, “I will do my best to schedule some time away from the office.”

“Well. Magdalene will likely want to host us here. She’s offered her home up every year since she built it for every holiday we might want to gather for. I think it was in part a way to keep mother’s memory alive, as well as yours during the blip.” James said, pausing he shook his head. “But now that you’re back, we hope to see you whenever you can make it.”

“I would be honored.”

Then, before James could reply, Davidson’s voice boomed across the yard, “Well, it looks like we have the full set of Jameses tonight!” And they all turned to see James Baker approaching, his wife hugging Mags, as their daughter settled into a game of horseshoes, chatting with Alecia and Sara. “Martinez, you and Baker, know one another,” Bill continued, as he and Sam walked back up to meet Baker halfway. “Baker, have you and Barnes met?”

“We’ve crossed paths before,” Baker answered. “But I’ve heard more than a few stories about the one-armed goat herder.”

“Pleasure to see you again,” Bucky said as they shook hands. “Though I’m afraid I haven’t done much goat herding recently.

“Yeah, that’s what Ramirez tells us.” Baker nodded, turning as Sam approached, “Hey man, how you been?”

And like that, Bucky watched as the conversation shifted, and he was just another face in the crowd. Not that he minded, he preferred it that way, taking pleasure in people watching, rather than being stuck in the center of attention. He could hear his nephew and Davidson talk about ‘Nam, while Sam and Baker shot the shit. Across the way near the fire pit, Mags, Dani, Suzanne, and Mike were chatting, Diego and Mitchel fiddling with the engine that was turning the spit with the roasting goat on it. He floated from conversation to conversation and was introduced and re-introduced to friends, volunteers, and old clients of Mags’s. All of whom were happy to see him and asked him how he’d been and what he’d been up to since the last time they’d all met. He’d give his canned answer, and they’d chat about Mags and the farm and the kids before Bucky would excuse himself and continue on.

Then, he was between groups, watching the party's activity, vaguely aware of a presence hovering at his side, and he turned to see Ali, standing beside him, her expression unreadable as she surveyed him. “How you holding up?” She asked after a moment of silent sizing up.

“Can’t complain.” He shrugged.

“You’ve been jostled around from group to group. You haven’t had a chance to grab anything to drink. Bottle of water?” She asked, extending an unopened bottle to him.

“Thanks.” He said, taking it from her.

“No problem,” Ali replied, her gaze scanning the crowd.

This gave Bucky a chance to survey her in-turn. He’d heard a lot about Ali in Mags’s letter, but today had been the first time he’d been able to put a face to the name. And somehow, she was nothing like he’d imagined he should be while simultaneously fitting perfectly into the mental slot he’d carved out in his mind to put her in.

She was tall, though a few inches shorter than Dani and broad-shouldered. She was Hispanic like Mags, and they shared the same dark eyes and brown skin. She had an eyebrow piercing and several piercings in her earlobes and in her ear cartilage. Her hair, bleached and dyed a neon green, and would have been about mid-way down her back if it hadn’t been braided elaborately and styled into a faux hawk and partially shaved, showing her natural dark hair color. Punk was the word that came to mind first. Not exactly how he’d thought a horticulturalist would look. Then again, why the hell not?

“They are something else, aren’t they?” Ali’s voice diverted his attention, and he followed her gaze to where Mags and Dani were standing, all of them laughing and smiling broadly.

“Yeah, they are.” Bucky agreed.

“I was a bit worried, you know. Coming back after five years. Not knowing what my life was going to look like, or how I’d fit into this new world, particularly since Dani had Mags, and they’d created this whole life together.” She shook her head. “But Mags and Dani are amazing. And Mags—well, I think she helped set the tone,” She cut herself off, glancing up at him. “You really got lucky with that one, Barnes.”

“I know.”

“And you didn’t hear this from me, and she’ll deny it to the ends of the earth, but we could all tell she was worried you weren’t going to come back.” She said slowly.

 _Why?_ He nearly asked. But didn’t get the chance as Mags’s gaze met his, and smiling broadly.

“But, it’s good to have you home,” Ali said, patting him on the back. “Now come on, it’s just about time for the food to be ready.”

Bucky trailed after her, feeling both relieved that their meeting had gone as smoothly as it had but also perplexed about what Mags had said or _not_ said over the last six months that had made everyone believe that he wasn’t going to come back. From their conversation earlier upstairs, to all of the little hints from all those he’d talked to, Mags had been genuinely worried. However, he also knew that now wasn’t the time to ask, so he filed that in the back of his mind and focused on the part that mattered. He was here, he’d made it back, and it seemed that everyone was glad for that.

“You guys have fantastic timing. Food’s ready to eat,” Dani announced as he and Ali arrived where she, Mags, and the others were assembled.

“Well, good, I’m starving.” Ali replied, “and I think Barnes here is famished too. He’s practically catatonic.” She winked with a large grin.

Before anything could be said, Mags’s announced, “All right, everyone! Get a plate and help yourself. Food is ready!”

There was a wave of commotion as everyone swarmed the buffet tables. Being one of the people closest to the table, Bucky collected his plate and moved to an empty picnic bench before he was overtaken by the crowds.

“You mind if we join you?” He glanced up to find Sara carrying two plates, bottles of water tucked into her armpits, and being trailed by Ava Maria approaching where he was sitting.

“Not at all.” He said, rising to offer assistance if need be.

“What do we say to Tio Bucky?” Sara prompted.

“Thank you, Tio Bucky.” Ava Maria answered as she climbed up onto the bench of the picnic table.

"My Pleasure." Bucky managed, feeling slightly off-balance.

“You mind if we join too, Tio?”

Bucky turned at Alecia’s voice, Diego just behind her. “Don’t see why not,” Bucky answered. “I didn’t realize I was _this_ popular.” He added as the group paraded over to where he was sitting.

“But of course.” Alecia grinned.

“And Tio?” he ventured as they all settled back onto the bench and started working on their plates.

“Well. Mom is Tia to Ava, so it only makes sense that you’d be Tio.” Diego shrugged.

“Makes sense?” Bucky glanced around. “Where’s Bianca?”

“With Dani and mom bringing down the cakes. Bianca and Dani are going to have a hel-heck of a time getting mom to sit down long enough to eat.”

“That sounds like her.” Bucky shook his head

“So, how long you here for?” Sara asked.

“Tonight, into tomorrow maybe.”

“Any idea where you’re headed next?” Alecia asked.

“Alecia!” Sara and Diego warned.

“What? It’s a perfectly valid question.”

“You know it’s against the rule. _That_ counts as insider trading.” Diego said.

Bucky followed the exchange like he was watching an enemy engagement and still didn’t know who the combatants were, what the rules or even context of this particular battle were, causing him to furrow his brow as he puzzled through what he’d just heard.

Fortunately, Sara took pity on him. “We’ve been playing ‘Where in the World are Fal-Captain America and The Winter Soldier,’” She explained. “Part of the rules are we are only allowed to use open source materials, newspapers, the internet, gossip/tabloid blogs, YouTube, in an attempt to triangulate your position using information that doesn’t _necessarily_ state your names or whereabouts..”

“And how do you win?”

“Confirmation, i.e., a photo, or news story, but it has to contain clearly identifiable information.” Alecia shrugged. “But again, part of the rules are we are explicitly prohibited from insider trading. Meaning information from mom, Dani, Sam, Mrs. Wilson, and you, _apparently._ ” She said with clear exasperation in her voice.

Bucky nodded, carefully weighing what he was about to say next. “That sounds incredibly resourceful. Just be careful. I was a wanted person not too long ago—it uhh—it got your mom into some—uhh hot water.”

“Well, that’s why there’s the rule about inside info. Only open source. It’s harder to claim that we’re doing anything illegal or malicious.”

He glanced between them, feeling slightly light-headed. _This_ wasn’t an angle he’d been prepared for. Mags being reckless, sure, but her kids...? “Does your mother know about this?”

“Know about what?”

They all turned to find Mags, Dani, Sam, and Ali approaching with plates in hand, Bianca bringing up the rear. “Our geography game,” Sara answered.

“Oh yeah. I lent them my old world map. They have it set up in Alecia and Bianca’s apartment. It looks very serial killer.” Mags commented as she set her plate down beside him, Sam sitting on her opposite side. “Just a bit of honest fun.” She added, kissing his cheek. “They’re not fed classified info from an Avenger.”

“Sounds like a good time. What are the rules?” Sam asked.

Without further prompting, Alecia explained the rules as Sara had done only moments before, while Bucky made a mental note to talk to Sharon about how they could cover their tracks better.

They ate and chat, and there was a lot of laughing and teasing as people came and went from the table. Yet, despite the commotion, and perhaps because it was who he was, Bucky watched as each of the kids slipped away, leaving Ava Maria sitting on Dani’s lap.

They were up to something, though before he could ask Mags where the kids had gone to, Bianca stepped up on one of the empty picnic benches and called for everyone’s attention. “Hey everyone, if I could just get a moment or two of your time, then you can go back to your conversation.” She called, and the whole assembled group went quiet.

The young woman glanced around, her expression firm as she surveyed the crowd. Beside him, Bucky could feel as Mags went stiff, her whole body perfectly still as if sensing what was coming next.

“First, I just wanted to thank all of you for moving to elaborate my mother’s birthday. And I hope you’ll join me in saying hap-”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The whole party shouted.

“And now, if you’d all join my siblings and me in the singing of Las Manianitas,” With this, Bianca turned and made eye contact with Mags for the first time, “mom. This is for you.”

There was the piercing notes from a trumpet and the strum of a guitar, and everyone turned to see Sara and Diego, approaching the table where Mags was sitting.

“Estes Son las Mananitas,” Sara sang out before Bianca, Alecia, and the whole of the assembled group joined in.

Mags buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking, whether with laughter or tears, Bucky didn’t know, but he and Sam put their hands on her shoulders, as Dani reached across the table, stroking Mags’s arms with both hands, all of them singing along. All of them celebrating this woman that they loved so dearly.

When the song ended, Mags looked up, her face red and streaked with tears. She kissed Dani, then Sam, and then him before she rose, hugging each of her kids who had gathered around the table to serenade her.

“Oh, no. Birthday Girl, We’re not done yet.” Bill’s voice called out, and Sara started strumming another tune. “There’s a yellow rose in Texas I’m going there to see.” Bill began, the rest of the assembled company joining in and clapping along in time.

Suzanne appeared with an armful of yellow roses, handing them to Mags with a hug. Tears streamed down Mags’s face even as she fought with all her might to keep them from falling, her lower lip trembling.

Yet despite herself, she was glowing, her eyes bright as she surveyed the group gathered around her, just as she had all those years ago. But that joy, that vibrancy, that light wasn’t just coming within her, but now from all around her in the people who were here with her tonight.

And he, James Barnes, who was just lucky to know her, never mind love and be loved by her, was here to witness it all.

Eventually, the song ended and hugs and laughter were exchanged, and cake was consumed, and the party continued on late into the night.

Then, one by one, guest started to leave, each of them contributing to a piece of clean up, thanking Mags profusely for the invitation, and wishing her a happy birthday before they left. Upon departure, his nephew hugged Bucky, reaffirming that they’d want to see him at the next family gathering, before hugging Mags, whispering something in her ear before they parted.

Mags seemed to contemplate James Martinez-Proctor’s words a moment before they both glanced at him and smiled and she wished him off.

Bill, Suzanne, Mike, Mitchel, and James Baker all wished him well and told both him and Sam to be safe out there. The kids all gave them hugs in turn, telling him they’d be looking for him in the headlines and to not do anything too stupid. ‘Mom likes having you around, after all.’ Alecia admitted.

Then after the flurry of activity had passed, it was just him, Sam, Mags, Dani, and Ali, sitting around the fire pit, watching the embers grow dim in the low light. “Well. I think we’re going to turn in,” Dani announced after a long while. “I have some work to take care of in the morning. Sam, Bucky, if you have to leave before I get to see you again, it was wonderful to see you, and thank you so much for coming. You really made today special.” She said, giving them each a big hug. “Don’t be strangers. This is your home too, you know.”

“It was wonderful to meet you both,” Ali said, also hugging them. “Don’t be a stranger, James Barnes.”

“I’ll do my best,” he nodded.

Ali nodded in return before turning to mags, “Do you want me to take your flowers up for you, Mags?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you, dear.” Mags smiled, handing off the enormous bouquet (which they’d discovered had contained 39 roses). “I’ll see y’all up at the house in a little while.”

“Happy birthday, mi amore,” Dani said, kissing Mags softly on the cheek, Mags squeezing Dani’s hand before the two women slipped away into the night, back up toward the house.

They sat in the silence a moment before Sam spoke. “So, how was that for birthdays?”

Mags grinned, “It was amazing. Thank you both for coming.”

“Our pleasure.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” Sam paused, checking the time. He glanced first at mags before meeting his gaze. “But, if you two don’t mind, I have to check in with Sharon. Nothing from her, just told her we’d check-in when we could.”

Mags took a deep breath nodding. “Not a problem. We’ll probably be right behind you in a few. Have a few things to take care of down here before we can call it a night.”

“Okay. Sounds good. See you in a bit, birthday girl.” He said, kissing her cheek.

“See you in a few, Sammie.”

Then, it was just the two of them, sitting across the fire from one another, and as Sam’s footsteps faded into the night, they made eye contact with one another.

“Hi.” She breathed.

“Hi.” He answered.

“Care to join me?” She asked, patting the space beside her on the log.

“Yes, I think I will.” Bucky agreed. Rounding the fire, he sat down beside her, putting his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her closer to him.

“Thank you again for coming. I hope you had a good time. I’m sorry I couldn’t spend more of it visiting with you.”

“It was your party. You were a little busy. Plus it gave me a chance to visit with a lot of people. It was good to get a chance to chat with Ali.” Bucky answered

“I saw that. What do you make of her?”

“I think she’s wonderful.”

“I think she is too.” Mags agreed, leaning her head against him. “But did you have a good time?”

“I did.”

“Good.”

There was a long silence as they let the logs spark and crackle, just taking a moment to bask in one another’s presence before inevitably the evening ended and they returned to their everyday existence. “Can I ask you something?” Bucky began slowly.

“Anything,” Mags answered, putting her hand on his chest.

“What did my nephew say to you before he left?”

“Oh. That.” Mags chuckled softly to herself. “He reminded me of something your sister said to me in her last message. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten it.”

“What was that?”

“He said, ‘mother said you that you’d both find your way home, and I think you both finally have.’” She answered slowly. 

_We could all tell she was worried you weren’t going to come back._

That is what Ali had said, and Bucky too could see that in the comments and asides of almost everyone he’d spoken to. It hurt to hear that she’d doubted he’d come back, but it made sense. Sam’s warning back in early May rang out in the back of his mind. Whatever you promise her, you have to follow through on. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it had been, wondering if he was just going to disappear into nothing. And although Ali had said Mags would deny it to the end of the world, Bucky knew he had to follow up. “You were worried I wasn’t going to come back.” He commented slowly.

“A bit.” She admitted. “And I tried not to worry. Tried not to think about it too much. Fortunately, in the end, there wasn’t a reason to be concerned.” Mags looked up at him with a smile. “Because Becca was right about you. In your own way and in your own time—you found your way back home.”

“I did.” He replied, leaning down, he kissed her forehead. “I love you, Mags.”

“I love you too, Bucky.” She said, letting the silence creep back in, the logs crackling in the fire pit. “Will you dance with me?” She asked slowly, her gaze focused on the fire. “Like we used to, around the fire, when we were in Wakanda?”

“Of course, doll. What did you have in mind?” He asked, before pausing to listen to the background music, now a low hum, the bars of ‘It’s Been a Long, Long Time,’ floating through the air around them. “This is a good one?”

“What?’ She sat up, screwing up her expression as she also listened intently. “Oh. No. no. No. no.” She shook her head, removing her phone. She scrolled through the playlist before finding the one she was looking for. “Here we are.”

As she clicked play, Bucky watched her watch him as the first bars floated through the air.

 _You must remember this…a kiss is just a kiss…a sigh is just a sigh...the fundamental things apply as time goes by—_ Dooley Wilson sung out.

But of course, it would be that song, from that movie, that she would want to dance to. After all, it hadn’t been a long long time, but rather…well…time had gone by, and the song reminded them of Wakanda and not _better_ but simpler days. Bucky rose. Turning to face her squarely, he extended his hand to her. “If you would do me the honor, Magdalene Ramirez.”

“Always, James Barnes. Always.” She smiled, taking his hand and allowing herself to be swept off her feet.

He held her close, swaying to the song. It wasn’t really a waltz or even swing, but still an opportunity to hold and be held by someone he loved. After the last six months, he was just glad for the chance to be close to her again, if just for a moment.

_No matter what the future brings, as time goes by._

He’d been worried about coming back. Worried how it might be different, how _he_ might be different, but he’d been wrong. Mags, Dani, his nephew, the Kids, the crew, and even Ali, had welcomed him back with open arms. And despite everything he’d done and everything he was, he’d had a place among them and with them.

_It’s still the same old story, a fight for love and glory case of do or die._

Tomorrow he’d be back out there, doing the work that needed to be done, and there was _still_ a lot to be done. There would be dangers, and hardships, and uncertainty, but now that he’d left and then come back to find there was still a place, still a home, still people here who loved him he knew the next time would be easier than before. There would always be home to return to. Not quite a certainty, but something he could always hold onto when the going inevitably got rough.

_The world will always welcome lovers, as time goes by._

Mags, his beautiful wonderful Mags, with her head, resting softly against his chest, Bucky didn’t want the moment to end. And so even as the music faded away, but they continued to sway in the low light of the coals and the moon as it shone down upon them, until eventually, as the spell was broken she looked up at him with a soft smile. Reaching up, she kissed his cheek, cupping his face with a hand. “Thank you, James Barnes, for everything.” She said, her voice soft her dark eyes bright and shining as she gazed up at him, an expression of adoration written across her face.

“Thank _you,_ Mags.” He replied, returning the kiss with one of his own.

“Now. I need to go walk the perimeter to make sure everything is armed and secure.” She paused, cocking her head. “Would you like to come with me? It’s not a long walk, and it is a relatively clear night. We could do a bit of star gazing along the way while we’re doing the perimeter check.”

“It would be my honor.”

“Good.” She smiled.

“Lead the way.”

Without further discussion, Mags took his hand and started off toward the property line. As they walked, Bucky tried to think through the events of the day, the last six months, and the last nine years in their totality. It was too much to contemplate, and even further too much to try to make any sense of it with concise finality.

And as they walked, the mist rolling in around them, the earth beneath their feet peaty and damp, the cold, humid air catching in their lungs as they followed the property line, checking all of the sensors, and fences, and other security measures X-Con had installed, Bucky found himself overcome with a tremendous sense of déjà vu.

He’d made this walk before, what felt like a lifetime ago, as a different man: hunted, haunted, frightened, and alone, unsure of what he was, never mind _who_ he was. The only thing he’d been able to cling to was a name, and a voice, and the promise that both of those things had provided: a past, a purpose, a way to fight back against the demons that hunted him.

Then somehow, he’d managed to stagger into a kind woman’s barn, seeking shelter from the storm that raged in his mind, and in her act of selflessness, their lives had been transformed forever.

Bucky still wasn’t sure who he was, or even who he wanted to be, but he knew who he’d been, what he’d been, all of it, and today had been a testament to that past. He was James Barnes, brother of Becca. He was the Winter Soldier, operative, fugitive, and ally to Captain America (both old and new). He was the one-armed goat herder with the sole task to protect and nurture. Most importantly, he was Bucky Barnes, the sum of the collective parts of the pasts he had led, and yet he was none of those things at all as he made and remade himself anew. Of course, as Mags had told him, he wasn’t finished yet. He wasn’t done figuring out who he was, what he wanted, or what kind of person he might be.

Still, even as he worked to remake himself, and find his peace, Bucky couldn’t help but shake the feeling that the only reason he’d been able to do any of it or would be able to continue to charge forward into the future was because of a single choice. Mags’s choice to help a frightened, hunted man. She couldn’t have known then. Neither of them could’ve known, But Bucky knew now that without Mags, he wouldn’t have been able to continue the journey, to find himself, to find his purpose, to find his way home. And Bucky also knew whatever life threw at them, and however, they might change and grow and move forward, he would forever be in her debt.

“Well. I think we’re almost done here. You ready to head back?” Mags commented brightly, her breath fogging in the air around her creating a halo in the moonlight streaming through the frosty air.

“Yeah. I think so.” He agreed. The night was growing colder as it grew late, and he could feel his body starting to complain, wanting nothing more than a little rest after the long few days he’d had leading up to today’s activities.

“Good.” She smiled, rising on her toes. She kissed his cheek gently, her gaze lingering as she rolled back onto her heels. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Anytime. I hope to do it again soon.” Bucky replied.

“I’m sure you will,” Mags answered. Holding his hand tighter, she turned them around the way they’d come.

Then, hand in hand, they found their way back through the dark, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have finally arrived at the end of our journey together, back where we started, yet totally changed, ready to go back out into the world to make ourselves new! 
> 
> It was a tremendous pleasure and joy to share this story with you, Bucky and Mags (in all of their various iterations) have been riding around in my head living rent-free since 2013, and I’m so glad to bring their story to a close on a high note.
> 
> I would not have been able to do this without my wonderful Beta Readers tortoiseshells (check out her work here on Ao3) and vimeswasright who have helped guide this story along, and enabled me to realize my vision. 
> 
> A big thank you to all of you who have read, subscribed, commented, and left Kudos, you’ve made this journey all the more enjoyable!
> 
> Finally, nothing remains but for us to say farewell! Thank you for reading, I hope you all stay safe, and as Bucky and Mags said, “the work you’re doing is important, keep going!” 
> 
> As always, until next time, Happy Reading!

**Author's Note:**

> So Maggie and the gang (or some of the gang anyway) are back! And I didn’t even make y’all wait a year to find out what happens next! I will say that compared to part II and III, part IV is going to be a quick little jaunt, so I hope all of you enjoy! I’m very excited to be drawing the series to a close, but there is still so much ground left to cover before we can say goodbye to this cast of characters.


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